


Act Natural...

by Insomniac_with_dreams



Series: Act Natural Series [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Actually my first work with hardcore language, Angst, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Everyone Hates Keith, Gay Disaster Keith (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Implied Sexual Content, Keith (Voltron) is a Good Boyfriend, Keith likes to swear, Keith loves Hippos, Lance is super lonely, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron) Has Issues, actor lance, and high key insecure, hippos - Freeform, interviews gone wrong, journalist keith, keith is so done, slow burn???, soft klance, they/them pronouns for Pidge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 59,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24271462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomniac_with_dreams/pseuds/Insomniac_with_dreams
Summary: “ I honestly did not expect that. Which is dumb you are literally trending on every social media plat form out there. Probably even Pinterest.”Keith frowned at them rolling his eyes.“You can’t trend on Pinterest.” he mumbled, digging his chopsticks savagely into his noodles. Pidge looked at him across the table over their glasses.“Pretty sure you can. You’re like internet famous.”Keith groaned and if it weren’t for the bird poop he would have thunked his head onto the table. “Yeah. For making one of the best known celebrities uncomfortable, and shitting all over the show's reputation. I literally have as big of an enemy base as Lance has a fan base. I’m going to get mobbed.”~or~Keith messes up and the internet collectively hates him. While Lance pines after the boy with stupid shirts.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Act Natural Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1881364
Comments: 362
Kudos: 549





	1. Keith

Keith was not ready for this, at all. When he had shown up at the studio that morning ready to trail whoever he was assigned to, and go for the occasional coffee run, he was not expecting _this_ to happen. He didn’t really like these kinds of interviews. They all over asked questions and fake replies, but he needed to intern at a place like this as an assignment for his major. But he never wanted _this_ to happen. This being him having to step in place of an interviewer and interview the actor that was on the schedule for that day. He wasn’t ready for this, and he felt anxiety roll up and down his spine if he messed this up he was done for. He had been scheduled to partner interview some voice actor in a month, as his first exposure to the job. Not this.

He had been slipping his lanyard over his head when Allura, the woman in charge of everything, including interns, was running towards him with her hair a mess and her chest heaving for breath. She grabbed him by the elbow. Hard. 

“Keith I need you to step in for Jared.” 

He blinked at her stupidly, because if he had heard her right she wanted him to interview a top-notch celebrity. Him alone.

“What?” he said not so eloquently. Allura rolled her eyes, snatching the lanyard from his hand and dragging him towards the set. He dug his heels in. There was no way in hell he was going to go out there without any kind of explanation. Allura turned annoyed slightly frenzied eyes on him.

“What do you mean that I need to sit in? I can’t do that. I don’t know what I’d be doing.” 

Allura pushed a pad of paper into his chest. “Just read this. The questions are going to be super generic, it won’t be that hard. Besides, it will give you experience, isn’t that why you’re here?”

“W-well I mean I guess?” he stuttered out his heart beating faster and his stomach falling as the lights around the set started going off. Allura ran a hand down his shirt. His t-shirt that had a faded alien on it and the slogan, Life is Fucking Relentless. It had been a gift from his brother.

“Good. Now get out there.” Allura pushed him towards the edge of the set where two plush seats were sitting across from each other. One red and one blue. He couldn’t see the movie posters and was hit again with the fact that he had no idea who he was going to be talking to, but then Allura was shooing him on. He could see his interview coming in from the other side and stumbled out into the light. 

He glanced at the posters and froze. No way. No fucking way. The actor he would be interviewing was none other than heartthrob and overnight superstar, Lance McClain. The guy was amazing. Keith had seen everything he had ever been in, even his cringy roles when he was just getting started. He hadn’t been to see the new movie yet. If he had known that was who he was going to be interviewing he would have run. Far far away.

He heard a slight ‘ahem’ and he looked back at the actor. He was right there. Right there in front of Keith. Looking slightly confused and a bit awkward. His eyes caught Keith off guard, he had known they were blue, but he hadn’t known they were _that_ blue. Perfect brows rose and Keith remembered that they were actually meant to be doing something. He stepped forward quickly, sticking his hand out. He knew his palms were sweaty but Lance grasped it and shook it hard with a well-practiced smile. Keith returned the smile though he knew it probably looked shaky as hell.

“W-welcome to the show. Why don’t you sit down.” Keith motioned lamely to the red chair, cringed as he sunk down in the blue one. He wanted to go home. They sat in awkward silence. Keith looked down at his notes.

“So uh,” Keith said at the same time Lance started to say something. He froze. “Uh s-sorry, go ahead.”

Lance smiled at him, but his eyebrows were a little scrunched. “I was just going to say that you were not what I was expecting.”

Keith winced liking his lips trapped between looking at Lance directly or at Allura who was surely looking for new interns to replace him. He would too. He ran a hand up his face and leaned back in his chair.

“Ah, yeah. Sorry. I bet you were expecting Jared right?” Lance nodded. “ He had an emergency to attend to and couldn't come in. So you got stuck with me at the last moment.”

Lance nodded in acceptance. The conversation stilted again.

“So am I going to get your name?”

Keith could have smacked his forehead. “ Sorry. I’m Keith.” 

Lance nodded smiling at him again. Keith could’ve sworn he saw him glance at the watch on his wrist. Shit.

“U-uh, so I guess my first question for you is.” he stared at the words. “Uh, what was it like to constantly have to wear a helmet?” he stared at the question. That was boring, insanely so, and cringe-worthy, Lance let out a laugh and settled easily back into his chair crossing his long, long legs.

“Let me tell you, some days it was a nightmare. But you have to do it, you know?”

No, he didn’t know, and he told Lance as much. He regretted it almost immediately. Lance’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead. He heard the distinctive smack of a hand on a forehead off stage.

“I-I mean I’m not an actor so I wouldn’t know.” it sounded weak to his own ears. He decided to move onto the next question which had him wrinkling his nose again.

“The fuck are these questions?”

Lance let out a barking laugh, bending over his knees. Keith looked up in horror. Lance was laughing so hard that tears were falling down his cheeks. He sat back up wiping them away holding a hand to his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Lance said but he was grinning and broke into another fit of laughter halfway through. It took a few more seconds but he finally waved a hand in front of his face, looking up at the lights to calm the tears in his eyes. They were sparkling when he looked back at Keith. “ My apologies, I was not expecting that.”

Keith was mortified and one hundred percent fired. He finally looked desperately at the camera, surely they had stopped filming. But the red light that meant they were recording was still on. Allura was standing at the edge of the set arms crossed with a thumb in her mouth. She sent him a look that clearly said, _fix this now._

“U-uh s-sorry about that didn’t mean to swear. Uh.” his eyes scanned the page. The questions really were shit. He knew for a fact that everyone already knew all of this. Lance had literally been on the cover of Cover Girl and Men’s Health discussing both his workout regime and his skincare routine. Keith didn’t want to ask him about that.

“What questions would you ask me?” Keith looked up in surprise. Lance was watching him. The smile he had worn since coming into the interview was different now, his eyes holding a different type of intensity. A new interest.

“I-I don’t know. Anything I would ask would feel insincere. But I suppose I would ask you what you’d rather be doing right now.”

Lance blinked as if Keith’s response was not what he had been expecting. “ You mean instead of acting?” he asked, his brows creasing even more. They were so expressive.

Keith shook his head. “No. I mean right here, right now. I am sure that you would like to do something other than this.”

Lance opened his mouth to reply, but then Allura was hurrying onto the set. 

“I’m sorry but that’s our time. Thank you for your time, Lance.”

Keith stood up and left, feeling the panic of what he had done and said come down on him. He knew Allura was right behind him. When they were in the dark away from the lights he turned to her. Her face was hard as stone.

“Allura, I know I messed. I-.” he was cut off by Allura shaking her head.

“I’m sorry Keith, I’ll be keeping your lanyard,” she said before turning to walk away. Keith felt inexplicable tears fill his eyes. This internship not only was required to pass his class, but it had paid well. He clenched his fists crunching the yellow paper of the pad. He set it down on a cart and walked back to the closet where he kept his jacket and helmet. He pulled on his jacket and chanced one last look back at Lance who was talking to Allura. He had probably not only destroyed his reputation and no one would ever-higher him again, but he probably also ruined the reputation of the show.

His bike was in the back lot right under a dripping gutter. He had to cover his bike every morning but it was free parking so it was worth it. He pulled his phone out and turned it on again. It was a rule that all devices were to be turned off during the workday. He sighed swinging a leg over his bike and settling onto the seat. His thumb hung over Shiro's contact. What was he going to say? Hey, Shiro I royally fucked up, yeah again. Crazy right?

Gritting his teeth he dropped his thumb. He didn’t feel like texting and he lifted the phone to his ear. It rang, and rang, and rang. Keith scowled and looked up at the sun. It was barely noon. Shiro was still at work. He hung up without leaving a voicemail. He revved his engine and tore out of the parking lot. All he could do was go back to his dorm and pray he had ice cream leftover. He was behind on the show he was watching anyways. Locking himself in his room and pretending this never happened sounded like the perfect solution for this entire mess.

L.A. was a constant buzz of activity and sometimes Keith wondered how much it would take for him to get out of this hell hole. He wanted to live in the forest. Where it was green and cool and didn’t smell like car exhaust and greasy street food. He had thought about dropping it all, leaving the major that was beginning to grey for him. Leave the glitz and glam of L.A., move back out to his dad’s cabin. Not in a forest, but far enough away that he wouldn’t mind the heat as much. He couldn’t though. Too many good people had worked too hard to get him here, and journalism was something he had always wanted to do. Good journalism, real journalism. 

He tried Shiro again as he stopped at a stoplight. The line of cars in front of him was almost as long as the one behind him. He was sweating through his shirt and it stuck grossly to his chest. He hoped his shower worked when he got back to his dorm. Shiro's phone went to voicemail again and Keith heaved a sigh. He wanted desperately to tell Shiro about his fuck up before the internet did. He knew the studio was going to post the interview. That was probably the only time they were going to be able to get Lance for months. And he had ruined it because he was so focused on the truth and depth of people. He should have insisted Allura find someone else. Someone who could watch lies, and spread them.

The light must have turned green as the cars in front of him inched forward. It took longer than he wanted and he felt like passing out before he got off of the main highway and used less known roads to get to the university. He liked the school. It was the example of a perfect college. The experience of walking the grounds was another thing keeping him from leaving. He was a bit of a cliche in some ways. He hadn’t really wanted to go to college, but with persuasion from Shiro and pictures of the campus, he was willing. He had decided on college half to get a degree and half to just have the experience. If you asked the few friends he had managed to make, he wasn’t experiencing college correctly.

“Keith you cannot seriously think that and not go to any parties.” Pidge had claimed from where they were sprawled across the library floor. They were blinking owlishly at him through their big round glasses. He had looked away down at the book he had been reading or pretending to.

“I just don’t like parties, Pidge. I don’t like people or drugs or alcohol.” they had dropped it after that only re inviting him as they parted ways with him at the end of their study session. He had once again declined.

Thinking about Pidge made Keith groan in renewed pain. He absolutely did not want them to find out, at all. He would never hear the end of it. Though he supposed at the rate his mind was going he would never hear the end of it simply because he can’t stop thinking about it. He just needed them to not know. Maybe they were a bigger priority then Shiro at this point. He pulled into his normal parking spot next to the sagging dorm halls. That was one thing he would have gladly skipped out on as well. Fuck dorm rooms. And roommates, they can go to hell.

Keith actually lived alone now, but for the first two years of college, he had been roomed with the biggest douche bag he had ever encountered. He had literally taken to sleeping in the library instead of going back to the dorms. The guy normally had people over anyways, Keith walked in on him and a bed partner far too many times. Still, though there had been advantages to sharing a room. He didn’t have to pay the entire charge, and the guy was pretty good at getting food delivered up to them. Living alone was better though and Keith wouldn’t go back to Kevin the douche bag for anything.

The room was beautifully cool as he swiped his key card and stepped through the door. He threw his helmet onto the floor and shucked his jacket off next to it. He kicked his boots off and then collapsed onto his rickety bed. He stared at the hole in the ceiling where black mold had been cut out. He had a forearm pressed against his forehead. He really couldn’t believe he had done that. He still couldn’t believe he had been that close to Lance McClain. Close enough to smell his cologne which probably cost more than all of the cologne Keith had gone through in his life together. To see the blue, _blue_ , of his irises. He really was attractive, Keith mused. Not that it would matter. Not that it ever had mattered, but now for sure it didn’t matter. He should probably get up and change, but he was more than content to lay here and let the cool of the room roll over him. Then he remembered the ice cream. 

He was woken up the next morning by his phone pinging rapidly and someone banging on his door. He stumbled out of bed and looked between the door and his phone.

“Keith you better open this damn door and explain why you’re trending on everything!” Pidge was squawking from the other side of the door momentarily stopping the banging. Keith grabbed his phone, fumbling it a little as he unlocked it. Shiro had texted and called him more times than he cared to count. His phone was packed with DMs and he felt his stomach lurch at the YouTube videos that were all popping up.

 _Top Ten Worst Interviews!_ The thumbnail a picture of Keith looking far meaner than he thought he had, and Lance looking far more offended than he thought he was.

 _Disaster Interview!!! Must Watch!!!_ Some reaction channel. The thumbnail of a woman covering her mouth, her eyebrows raised ridiculously high.

A plethora of others and finally the one he had been dreading. The official interview that had been released. The thumbnail of Lance sitting awkwardly and Keith staring desperately into the camera.

_Lance McClain on E-Altea | Interview Mishap_

Well, Keith thought. That one was not so damning. Pidge was banging on the door again, demanding to be let in. He opened the door for them, waving them in. They stormed past him already ranting and waving their phones around. Keith ran a hand down his face and then behind the back of his neck. He realized that at sometime during the night he must have changed, leaving him in UFO pajama pants and no shirt. He was going to put one on but Pidge was whirling on him.

“What the _fuck_ is going on? You are literally the most hated person on the internet right now.” 

That last part he didn’t know. He sighed and flopped onto his bed. “What do you mean?”

Pidge threw their phone at him and he caught it. Twitter was pulled up and it seemed as if a battle were waging. Pidge was right, of course, he was literally being attacked by everyone. Even Hunk Garret who was another well-known actor. People were talking about him as if he had murdered Lance on camera, not just fucked up an interview he was not prepared for.

Sarah Diggory said.

_Who does this asshole think he is???? Like Lance literally looked soooo uncomfortable. #ProtectLance #CancelKeith_

Aaron Richards said.

_Yeah. No. Fuck that interview and that guy. I hope he got fired or something. #ProtectLance #CancelKeith_

The list went on and on. There were literally people that made minute long videos about how much they hated him. He stared at the phone until Pidge took it back from him. They were gentler when they sat next to him now. They put a hand on Keith’s arm.

“You got fired didn’t you?”

He nodded absently, staring at his hands now.

“I.” he stops and clears his throat. “ I didn’t mean for this to happen, at all. A-and I didn’t mean to make Lance uncomfortable, I seriously thought the questions were awful.”

Pidge chewed their lip hand still on his arm. They tapped their fingers on his wrist. “ watched the interview. Not going to lie to you, Keith. It was pretty bad, but I definitely do not think I warranted this type of reaction from the media. It was painfully obvious you had no idea what you were doing.”

Keith nodded, his eyes still trained on his hands. “ What am I going to do? Everyone hates me right now, and I literally have no job or an excuse for my professor.” Fuck. He thought. His professor probably had watched it. There was no way that was going to help him. He dropped his head to his hands, letting out a long suffered sigh. Pidge's fingers were still tapping at his wrist.

“Hey. You’ll be okay. It’s Holly Wood. Someone else will fuck up and everyone else will forget this. It won’t take long either.”

They were right Keith thought. This was just like when someone else made a mistake in the public eye and had blown up only for the hype to die only a few days later.

His phone pinged again and he flipped it over to see the screen. It was a text from Shiro and unlike the other texts that were long, in all caps and with half the words spelled wrong, this one simply said; _are u okay?_

Keith snorted and it was wetter than he wanted it to be. He was reacting to this too hard. He called Shiro who picked up on the first ring. He explained what had transpired the day before and how he was most likely never leaving his room again Shiro made a concerned noise at that.

“Keith. That’s-” Keith caught him off before he could finish the sentence not in the mood for a lecture. He fell back against the bed, lodging Pidge's fingers.

“I know Shiro. I know. I was kidding. I have to get a job as soon as possible and hopefully not fail my course.”

Shiro let out a long sigh. Keith could hear shuffling on the line. “ Well. I’m sorry this happened to you Keith, but it’s still kinda cool. Like dude! You got to shake _Lance_ _McClain’s hand._ That's so awesome.”

Keith couldn’t help but laugh. It made him feel a little better though. If Shiro could make light of the situation, so could he.

“I’m going to go,” Keith said. He was struck with the sudden realization that he was hungry.

“Okay. Bye Keith, and hey, you should've come over this weekend. I miss having you around.”

That did surprise Keith and filled him with warmth. “Okay, Shiro. I will.”

Pidge was watching him when he put his phone back down, their eyes narrowed behind their glasses. He looked at them and shrugged his shoulders up until it nearly touched his ear.

“What?” he asked getting up and digging around in his unkempt drawers for a shirt. Preferably a shirt that didn’t have the word fuck on it, or any type of pop culture reference. He didn’t want any kind of attention today. He found a nondescript green shirt. It had either been Shiro’s or he had accidentally kept it after he broke up with his last boyfriend. The guy was a dick anyway. He sighed, shoving his arm back into the drawer swirling it around and making a general mess, but finally, he found what he was looking for.

“You had breakfast yet?” he glanced at Pidge from over his shoulder as he got dressed. They gave him a deadpan look.

“Keith, it’s like six-thirty. Of course, I haven’t eaten breakfast.”

“Are you saying that because it’s true or because you want another breakfast without you having to pay for it?” Keith asked, narrowing his eyes. Pidge jumped off the bed shrugging.

“Don’t matter. I know that you can’t eat if the person you’re with doesn’t.” they grinned at him and sauntered to the door swinging it open and stepping out onto the catwalk. Keith grumbled and grabbed his wallet and keys. He wasn’t going to be driving anything but he carried his keys as a security means. Both Shiro and Pidge made fun of him for it. He was determined to prove them wrong one day. He made sure his key card was in his back pocket and finally joined Pidge outside. 

“How’s the final project going for you?” he asked Pidge as they made their way to the Panda Express that was connected to the bookstore. People had stopped questioning Keith’s weird breakfast choices after he stared at them in confusion. To him, food was food, and in the case of Panda Express, really good food.

Pidge blew out a breath. “Well I was supposed to work on it today but then this whole mess happened and I figured there are better ways to spend the day.”

“Tormenting me?”

“Yes tormenting you. But other than that it’s going as well as an advanced robotics project can.”

He nodded. That was more than he could say. The smell of Chinese fills the air as they drew nearer. Keith’s stomach growled. He was going to get the biggest helping he could, and he was going to eat all of it right then, right there. His hopes and dreams were all but crushed when they stepped through the door, and the girl at the cash register did a double-take before her mouth fell open.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe it’s actually you. Like you looked familiar but I was like, no. It’s totally you though. You’re totally that jerk interviewer.”

Keith scowled. Not really at her, more like at the world in general. He stepped forward and crossed his arms looking resolutely up at the menu.

“Listen. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I was just an intern and the universe decided to fuck with me.” Keith was a firm believer that the universe had a personal thing out for him. “ I just want some food.”

They didn’t eat in like Keith was planning to. His stomach was churning and from more than the lack of food. Pidge had decided that the silence was too much for them and began to talk about their project. Keith listening with half an ear. He didn’t know if he could do this. He had just barely become Keith. Not Keith the discipline case, or Keith the emo, or even Keith Shiro’s little brother. Just Keith. Now though, he was Keith the dick of an interviewer. He sighed and realized that they were in the park out behind one of the buildings. There was a duck pond and a bridge that was a popular place for people to stick chewing gum. It was disgusting.

Pidge sat down at one of the bird poop riddled tables and opened their container of Chinese. Keith dropped down next to them doing the same. They ate in silence and Keith was disappointed when it didn’t taste as good as it normally did. He didn’t eat the whole thing, only about a quarter. He reached for his phone and remembered that he had left it in his room to avoid the constant pinging.

“ I honestly did not expect that. Which is dumb you are literally trending on every social media platform out there. Probably even Pinterest.”

Keith frowned at them rolling his eyes. “You can’t trend on Pinterest,” he mumbled, digging his chopsticks savagely into his noodles. Pidge looked at him across the table over their glasses.

“Pretty sure you can. You’re like internet famous.”

Keith groaned and if it weren’t for the bird poop he would have thunked his head onto the table. “Yeah. For making one of the best-known celebrities uncomfortable, and shitting all over the show's reputation. I literally have as big of an enemy base as Lance has a fan base. I’m going to get mobbed.”

Pidge exaggerated a pout at him. He rolled his eyes and wrapped the noodles around his chopsticks eating them with a frown on his face. PIdge’s phone went off and they looked at it. 

“I gotta go. My partner wants to meet up.” they stood and Keith watched them close up their food and curse the lack of a backpack.

“Okay. Have a good day Pidge. Good luck with your project.” 

Pidge looked at him and sighed coming around the table to squeeze Keith around the shoulders one-handed.

“I am sorry Keith. You call me if something happens or you just want to hang.” 

He nodded and Pidge turned and began walking back in the direction of the library. Keith sat there for a few minutes more before he noticed that people were starting to come into the park. He packed up his own food and harried out of the park with his head down, praying no one recognized him. He was beyond grateful it was Saturday. He could easily hide in his room all day.

His phone was right where he had left it flipped upside down on his blankets. He put his leftovers in the fridge and then glared at the phone. Debating on whether or not to look at it. Though he supposed he was going to have to at some point. Better to get it over with. He flipped it over and turned it on. His notification bar was full. He cleared it and deleted twitter, and Instagram and Tumblr. Which was okay. The Tumblr app is shit. Maybe getting rid of the apps was a coward's move but he hardly used most of them in anyways and he didn’t want to deal with people.

He did scroll through some of the news stories. He felt his stomach clench and anger fill him. Allura had done an interview. He couldn’t help but click on it. Allura was sitting across from someone much like Keith had been. She looked perfectly put together.

_“So. What happened?” Allura laughed and so did the interviewer as if it was a big joke._

_“You know, I think that Keith was looking for his fifteen minutes of fame, and if that meant he was going to act like an idiot then he was going to do anything he could.”_

He stopped watching after that, anger churning in him now. How dare she. How dare she! Keith hadn’t even known who he was interviewing. It wasn’t his fault as everyone thought it was. He probably would have done fine if Allura hadn’t insisted on telling him anything. He scrolled angrily past and stopped again. Lance was apparently going onto Coran to talk about the “experience”. Keith tossed his phone away. Coran was one of the biggest talk shows out there. Keith was not going to survive this. They weren’t going to let this die.


	2. Lance

Lance watched Keith walk dejectedly into the darkness of backstage, and braced himself for the numerous unnecessary apologies he was about to receive. Allura was walking briskly towards him, a look between fear and fury on her face. She stops short of him, looking like she wants to grab him by his shoulders, maybe to shake him, or to keep him in place so he wouldn’t sue their studio.

“Mr. McClain, I can't apologize enough. I’m so sorry. We won’t release the interview.”

Lance held up his hands and smiled, it was so tight-lipped it physically hurt, but he wanted to go home, or back to the hotel. Either one would be perfect at this point. If he remembered right there was leftover ice cream in the freezes of both places.

“I assure you it’s fine.”

Allura didn’t look like she believed him. She wrung her hands nervously and Lance wanted to tell her that no, he wasn’t going to sue her shitty studio. He hadn’t minded the interview. If you could call it that, but that's beside the point. It had been fun to watch someone voice his opinions about the interview questions out loud. It had been refreshing. Not to mention his interviewer was unfairly cute. Which was something Lance would have to think about when his head was half-buried in a tub of double fudge brownie ice cream.

“I just feel so terrible about wasting your time. I know how busy you must be.”

Lance kept smiling. What she didn’t know is that no, he really wasn’t that busy. This gig the last job he was doing before a fuck it all weekend. He most certainly wasn’t busy.

“It’s okay. I promise. I’m sure that my agent can work out another time for me to be interviewed by this studio if you want a redo.” he knew that was the other thing she was worried about. Lance was currently being coveted. Every studio wanted to interview him, every cheesily named news outlet wanted to feature him in their articles. He understood what a loss this was for their studio, but he also didn’t really care. Not in a spiteful way, but more in the sense that it's not that big of a deal, just interview someone else kind of way. He was definitely more concerned with Keith. “What about um, Keith?”

Allura stared at him like he had grown two heads and dropped from the moon. That smile was becoming shaky.

“Fired. Completely. I should have had him come and apologize. He was just an intern who really wanted to be on set with a big-time actor like yourself.”

Lance held in a wince. An intern. He remembered being an intern. That was some scary shit at times. You constantly are walking in eggshells, it’s the reason Lance hates coffee. Lance had practically gotten him fired. He was also completely sure that Keith had not wanted to be there in any way or form. The guy looked like he had rolled out of bed minutes before. His shirt was cute though. Lance bit his lip to get his mind back on track.

“Ah, no. It’s fine.” he was out of things to say, and he had never been so glad to hear his phone go off in his pocket. He took it out and felt his shoulders slump in relief. His car was here. “ It’s been wonderful to um, meet you, and do an interview. My car is here now though, so I’d best be off.”

Allura clenches her fists but nodded. She called one of the security officers over to walk Lance out. He smiled at the dude and got a slight upturn of lips in return. Allura marches over to the cameraman and he took that as his cue to get the fuck out of there. He followed the security officer along the hallways of the studio. Feeling his heart leap as he saw his driver standing by the open door of his car. He thanked the security officer and practically threw himself into the car. His driver raised an eyebrow at him, but shut the door and walked around to get in behind the wheel.

Lance pulled out his phone. His social media was full, like usual, and there were a few texts from Hunk, a friendship he had made on the set of The Depths, where they had played divers who discover a colony of mermaids and destroy a sea monster. He hadn’t expected them to stay friends, but now Lance knew Hunk and his long time girlfriend Shay like family. They were simple texts, asking if he was doing the charity event in New York, sending him a good luck for his interview which he smiled at. He would answer him later. The more pressing messages were from his agent. She was a bitch. There was no other way to describe her. He literally could not have had less luck in getting an agent. He had spent long nights complaining to Hunk about her after a particularly stupid dinner that he was forced to attend. Hunk has an amazing agent, and Lance would trade Honerva for him any day. The guy isn’t only really good at his job, but a pretty cool dude to begin with. If anyone were to sue the studio, it would be her, not to mention probably track down Keith and murder him. Hiding his body in the back of her car under all of the cat luggage.

He opened the first text from her.

**_HonervaTheBitch:_ **

_I'm going to tell you one last time that I do not approve of this “weekend” you plan on taking. You were just in a Marvel movie, you should be out there promoting it and visiting hospitals. Not lounging around L.A. because you’re “tired.”_

Besides the fact that Lance prayed she never saw her name in his phone, he groaned long and loud over the text. He had to admit though he was proud that she had only used quotations twice instead of her usual four. He was also very well aware that he had just starred in a freaking Marvel film, that’s why he was tired. No, exhausted. He was exhausted. The driver looked at him in the rearview mirror as he slumped down in his seat, putting his phone on his chest and typing out his response. He ignored him.

The hotel that he was staying in was huge and shiny, and gold. It had made him a little sick when he had first walked into the lobby. He was alone on this trip, so he had had to walk up to the desk by himself, in joggers and an oversized shirt, which he was pretty sure belonged to Hunk. Not to mention the galaxy patterned neck pillow and toothpaste stains around his mouth. He had only noticed them in the over-polished doors on the way in. He looked like a mess, and the look given to him by the receptionist confirmed that. It had taken her a while to recognize him, and when she did, she put down the phone-which lance was positive was to be used to call security- and asked for an autograph. Lance had smiled all teeth and said no. He felt bad about that afterward and gave her one the next morning. He received a chewing out for it by his bodyguard, but he didn’t mind.

He supposed that his room wasn’t that bad. It overlooked the city and had a pool on the balcony. Which he enjoyed. The bed was large and comfortable, but other than that it was far too big. He was finding that to be the problem with this trip all together though. Everything was far too big and empty. Sighing, he thanked his bodyguard for accompanying him and then promptly fell onto the bed. It was made up even though he had left it a mess that morning just because he could. The complimentary champagne was replaced even though he hadn’t even opened the first one. He rolled onto his back digging his phone out of his pocket. Honerva had opened his message and left him to read. Eh, that’s fine. He shot off a few texts to Hunk and then threw his phone onto the bedside table. The heat of the day and the bizarreness of it was catching up to him, and he didn’t have the energy to look at his social media. That is until his alarm to post something went off. He’d do a dinner post, of whatever he had, and hopefully, that would suffice.

He could turn on the t.v. but he faced the threat of seeing the trailer for the movie or the god awful ad he had been forced into doing for men's underwear. He had nothing against underwear ads, he thought that they were fine, but the faces that he had been forced to make and the dark backdrops behind him made him feel claustrophobic. Not to mention the girl that had to touch scarily close to his dick looked so uncomfortable it hurt. So he decided against that. He supposed he could call and see if anyone he knew was in town, but all of his co-stars were far older than he was. So his mind began to wander in the way minds do when bored. He could not get that boy out of his mind. Unruly black hair that fell against his shoulders, bright eyes in a color Lance had never seen in real life, and the most expressive eyebrows. His lips too, Lance mused, pink and puffy, god he was gorgeous.

That thought had Lance laughing. He worked in Hollywood for fuck's sake, he has shaken Chris Evans’ hand. He had played in the same movie with some of the hottest people-according to the tabloids-in the world. Yet the thought that this random intern who had looked scared half to death, had Lance’s heart turning over in his chest and his stomach flipping. He groaned as he got off the bed stripping out of his clothes slipping on his soft pajama pants and robe, stepping out onto the balcony. The sun was setting, casting the mountains in an orange glow and throwing shadows along the street. A motorcycle far below tears through a light when the traffic finally moves. He’s always wondered what it would be like to ride a motorcycle. Maybe one of his roles will require him to. Even if it was fake it’d still be cool.

The air was still hot but it was more comforting now then brutal. Lance leans on his balcony and watches the endless flow of traffic go by as the lights around the city begin to come on. He had refrained from wandering the streets during both day and night, wanting to save the city for the weekend. That was the only way he had gotten to have his fuck it all weekend, was if he promised to stay in L.A. instead of running off to Cuda like he wanted to. He was planning to find the simple places to go, not the celeb favorites that everyone knew about. He wanted local shops and art galleries, he wanted the street musicians and small cafes. Was it risky? Fuck yeah. Did he care? At this point, he didn’t give a shit, if he was recognized or not. He’d deal with it and move on.

His alarm inside went off and he sighed. He looked through the hotel menu and ordered an appetizer. Greasy, probably not good for his skin, but amazing for his soul. It was up sooner than he expected and he took it back out to the balcony, settling on a pool chair and putting the plate on his lap angling the camera on his phone to catch a bit of his leg and the remaining rays of the sun. He captioned it simply, _Long Day,_ and posted it. He tossed his phone face down ignoring the pinging of notifications that were already coming through. He ate his butter-soaked shrimp scampi, he had been right it was good for his soul. He stayed out until the sky was tinged with the yellow-green of the city lights and smog. He stepped back inside going through his nightly routine. He had just finished brushing his teeth when he remembered the ice cream in his freezer. He could always brush his teeth again.

  
  
  
  
  


He woke the next morning he woke to his phone pinging rapidly, which normally wasn’t that big of a deal, but when he turned it over he sat bolt upright in bed. They had posted the interview, and the internet was going collectively insane. Reaction videos were trending, news articles already are written, WatchMojo had already added it to their Top 10 interview mistakes videos, and Keith was being dragged through the mud. Lance stared at his twitter account which was teeming with hate towards Keith and sympathy towards him. Instagram was no better. He cursed hopping out of bed and closing the curtains over the glass sliding doors to the balcony, just in time for his phone to ring. He knew who it was but he still squeezed his eyes shut as he answered.

“Hello?” he had to move the phone away from his ear as Honerva began to scream at him almost instantly.

“The _fuck_ is going on?!” he sighed and dropped into a chair. “ I leave you alone for a few days and this happens?!”

Lance ran a hand over his forehead.

“Listen. It was an accident. The interviewer that was supposed to be there had an emergency, so they had to put in an intern. He wasn’t experienced. That’s all. I don’t see what the big problem is? Why is everyone losing their shit over this? Yeah, it wasn’t the smoothest interview but it’s not a big deal.”

Honerva huffed.

“Because Lance, you have growing worth. We cannot afford to lose any type of support, but from the looks of it, I suppose it was this interviewer. Not you.”

Lance mimed throwing his phone on the floor and stomping on it. He pressed it back to his ear. “So what do you want me to do. This is bound to blow over in a day or two, it always does.” he was hoping that she would agree then hang up and go back to caressing her cats. His life was never that simple though.

“You should go onto The Coran Show and talk about this.”

Lance slapped his forehead uncaring if she heard it. “ Is that really necessary? Like is it really?”

Honerva scoffed. “ Of course it is. You’re trending everywhere Lance. This is a good way for you to get out and get more sympathy on your side. All you have to do is go and play the situation up. Make it seem like you were mistreated by him. I bet we can even get the studio to help us by saying they edited a lot out.”

Lance took the phone away from his ear and stared at it. She should know by now that he didn’t like lying, and besides even if he did there was no way he was going to do that. “ No. I won’t do that. I will go on the show if you insist but I want to tell the story how it happened. Let people know that they’re attacking an innocent person, that didn’t hurt me at all.”

Honerva let out a long-suffering sigh. He could hear her muttering under her breath.

“Fine. Whatever. I’ll set up an interview and get back to you. Don’t do anything stupid until I do. No Instagram posts, not tweets, nothing. I want you to stay silent on this until after the interview.” then she hung up.

Lance dropped the phone to his lap and looked back through twitter. #ProtectLance and #CancelKeith were trending. There were screenshots of his stupid dinner post, with people using far too many crying emoji explaining that the caption was inspired because of the interview. God did he regret that now. He scowled when he saw Hunk’s tweets calling Keith out. He called him immediately.

“Lance! Are you okay?” he sounded like he was out on a boat, which he might be, he was in Hawaii. Lance stood up and paced back and forth in front of the door on the hardwood floor of his kitchenette.

“Uh, actually I was wondering why you called out a guy that has done nothing wrong. Hunk he literally was not prepared for it, and he got fired. God,” he leaned against his bar, “ and now the collective internet is hating on him because he didn’t act like a normal interviewer. It was refreshing Hunk. I wasn’t offended.”

Hunk was silent on the other end and Lance pulled his phone away from his ear to see if he had accidentally hung up on him. The call was still ongoing.

“Oh. Now I feel like an asshole. Lance, I’m sorry. I was just trying to protect you. I didn’t want you to feel hurt. I should apologize.” he sounded so distraught that Lance smiled.

“No, no. That’s okay I can’t say anything about it until after I’ve been on Coran. So you had better not say anything either.”

They talked a bit more before Hunk had to hang up. Lance buried his phone in the wardrobe and then his head in his pillow. He was already exhausted, and he was used to this kind of thing happening. He couldn’t imagine how Keith was dealing with the situation.

  
  



	3. Keith

The look that Keith got from his professor as he walked into class that Monday morning was enough for him to want to turn around and leave again. He didn’t know if his professor was judging him because of the interview, or because he looked like he had spent the weekend hiding in his room eating copious amounts of ice cream, which of course he had. He ducked his head and took the seat in the furthest corner. The rest of the class filed in. He got several strange or dirty looks, he ignored them all. Projects were handed in and Keith looked down at the portfolio he had put together with his other work. The internship had been worth about twenty-five percent of the portfolio grade and he had lost it. Keith handed him over, shame eating away at his insides. He was a good writer. He had scored astoundingly on all English tests he was required to take. His teachers had recommended him to magazines and he had won awards for pieces he had done over the summer before he went to college. He knew he was good and the fact that he had completely bombed this project made him feel nauseous. His professor asked him to stay after class.

Keith settled back into his seat and sat through the lecture on proper interview etiquette. Hre frowned deeper and deeper as his professor pointed out each one of his follies. He bristled when Jessica raised her hand and asked in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“So in the interview, we saw this weekend, do you think that there will be more cases of people simply looking for a time in the limelight with celebrities?”

It was aimed directly at him and he felt the urge to throw something at her. The professor even glanced at him as he answered.

“Well, if an interviewer is only seeking to get limelight then they obviously do not care for the job they are doing, but yes I do think that there are several and will be several more cases like this.”

Keith was known to fight people when they talked about him, or others in a negative condescending way. He was known to stand up and yell about what he thought was wrong, but he just sat there. He listened to the lecture go on and then sat through his professor expressing his disappointment in him. It made him wonder how things would be different if he had refused to help Allura out that day, or if people would try to see the whole picture instead of the tabloid covers. He walked back to his dorm under warm rain. He hadn’t ridden his bike today, scared that something might happen to her if he left her unattended in a parking lot. She was a well-known bike. It wasn’t a short walk by any means but Keith figured that he'd stop by the bookstore on his way. Duck in to wait out the rain and possibly find a book of interest.

He loved the book store, well all book stores really, this one though he loved very much. Two stories and full of books. Warm and coffee-scented. There were hidden nooks and crannies everywhere. Keith had his own spot by a window in a far corner by the large history books and atlas’, places not many people roamed. There was an old plush armchair sitting by a small table with a maroon shaded lamp. Keith retreated there now, grabbing a science fiction novel he had left behind a few other books. It was fascinating, and he could hardly wait to get back to it. Shiro had asked him several times why he didn’t just go to the library or buy the book, Keith wasn’t too sure why he liked the book store more than the library, but he did.

He settled in his chair, keeping one eye out for anyone who looked like they wanted to come bother him. He got lost in the book ten minutes in and stopped paying attention. The rain his the glass of the window above him and the quiet murmur of people around him was enough to send him into his own little world, full of robots and space explores making stupid mistakes. He didn’t realize how late it was getting until someone was pushing his book down. He looked up at the employee and was met with the eyes of someone who had been working too many hours to find some kid in the back corner of your store after you had already locked everything up. Keith apologized profusely as he was walked down the now still escalators and out into the rain. He sighed in defeat, the sun was going down and he cursed his inability to keep time. He pulled his phone reluctantly out of his pocket. He hadn’t turned it on since Sunday night after the hate he had been getting got to be too much. People on the internet were dicks.

He waited under the overhang of the roof while his phone powered up. His notification bar was full, again, and this time a picture half of half a leg and some greasy looking shrimp tempura was flooding the feeds of all his socials. He grumbled and swiped them away one by one. Shiro had texted him about fifty times and Keith grinned as he watched Shiro go from hysterical worry to realization. Keith had told him he was going to be turning his phone off. Pidge hadn’t texted him at all, except right as he was putting his phone away.

**_PidgeonFood:_ **

_ Hey, Lance is gonna be on Coran tonight. They got on a lot sooner than expected.  _

Keith blew out a breath, he had no desire to watch the interview.

**_PidgeonFood:_ **

_ You gonna watch it? _

**_Me:_ **

_ No. _

Keith groaned as his phone started to vibrate. They were calling him. 

“Why not?”

Keith snorted sticking a hand out into the rain, it was more of a mist now. He stepped into it. His room was going to be a nightmare tonight, he could feel the mugginess.

“Because Pidge, I'm not masochistic. I’d rather not have to face my failure again. no, thank you.”

Pidge snorted and Keith could hear the distinct sound of papers shuffling.

“I don’t believe that Keithy. We all know you’re a freak.”

Keith rolled his eyes. The only ‘we’ there was, was Shiro and them. He stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and pressed the crosswalk button.

“Sure, whatever you say. Seriously though I really don’t want to watch it. My professor kept me after class to explain every little thing I had done wrong after he did it in class. It is something I am very aware of.”

The little white man popped up across the street and he began to cross. He must not have been paying attention. A horn sounded accompanied by the screech of skidding tires. Keith jumped his phone slipping from his fingers. He caught it before it hit the ground. A limo had come to a halt inches from him. 

“Fuck,” he whispered he should probably move but the urge to storm around to the driver and demand what the hell he was doing was almost too much. The problem was answered when the driver stuck his head out the window.

“Are you going to fucking move?!” his hair was stringy and long, it looked like his nose had been broken one too many times. Keith balked.

“Are you kidding me? I had the right of way, not to mention, you’re in a school zone and shouldn’t be going that fast anyways dick wad.”

The driver looked like he wanted to strangle him, but then another car was coming up behind him, going the appropriate speed, and instead settled for flipping Keith off before pulling his head back into the cab. Keith crossed the street at a jog not turning around as the limo roared away. He noticed that Pidge had been yelling through the phone for a while. He put it up to his ear wiping his hair out of his face.

“The fuck just happened are you okay?!” they sounded hysterical and Keith wondered if he should be reacting differently. He was just slightly annoyed and tired. He wanted to go home and take off his soaked clothes.

“Yeah I’m fine. I almost got hit by a limo. It’s fine.”

Pidge huffed a sigh but sounded relieved. 

“Well it’s a good thing you didn’t get hit by one, that’s a pathetic way to die Keith.”

“Ha. Yeah I guess it is. I’m going to go now though. Tell me about the interview.”

Pidge clicked their tongue. “You’ll watch it.” and then hung up.

Keith shook his head down at his phone, his notification bar had filled up again. He cleared it before shooting a text off to Shiro telling him he was still okay. 

It took him ten more minutes but he finally made it back to his dorm. He checked on his bike first. She looked fine. No gum in the ignition, no spray paint marring her red chrome body, no tears in the leather seat. He sighed in relief. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if his bike was messed with or damaged. It was a temporal object but it was also the last thing he got from his mom before she died, it would devastate him if she got hurt. Maybe he should take her to Shiro’s just to be safe. He might be a bit paranoid, he thought as he climbed the stairs, no one was crazy enough to actually mess with personal property over a celebrity. Or at least he hoped.

As expected his room was humid and hot. The air conditioning must have gone out again. He stripped out of his wet clothes, laying them out flat on his desk so they wouldn’t mold and then went looking for the lightest shirt he had. He found an old In and Out burger shirt that was covered in paint. He slipped it on, foregoing pants and they went to dry his hair. He settled on his bed an hour later, he had homework to do but he could procrastinate for one more day. Then again maybe he should do it. He had nothing else to do. He crawled off the bed and gathered the books he needed. He picked up his laptop cursing as the papers that were stacked on top of it slid off. He bent to pick them up. He smiled a little fondly at them, they were the notes for his book,  _ his book. _ The book that he had told no one about. It might never be finished, and if he does it might flop, but it meant a lot to him.

He replaced the stack of papers moving to climb back on his bed. The work wasn’t that bad. He needed to finish an essay and then attempt to work out the disaster that was his chemistry. He probably should wait for Pidge to help him with it, but he was probably going to fail the class anyway. Mr. Carls had been the worst chemistry teacher ever, Shiro had tried to explain it to him on more than one occasion, but without foundation, it was lost to him. Not to mention it was hard for Shiro ro explain a contempt he knew so completely in a manner Keith understood. So, he was probably failing chemistry. He breezed through the essay and got distracted halfway through the chemistry. He remembered that he had yet to eat dinner and was running off of an apple pastry and coffee from that morning. He had ramen though. As he prepared it he convinced himself that this was a good reason to put homework aside.

His phone lit up and he glared at it over a forkful of steaming chicken-flavored noodles. Still, he walked over to it and looked down at it. Pidge had texted him.  _ Thank God,  _ he thought. 

**_PidgeonFood:_ **

_ The interview has started _

Keith glowered, throwing his phone back on the desk leaving them on read, just out of spite. He stalked back over to his microwave which seemed a fair distance from both his phone and homework. He turned his back on both of them like a child. Determined to eat his noodles in peace. Determined to ignore the entire thing.

He opened his laptop an hour later wrapped in his fluffy throw blanket, with only his eyes peeking out, and clicked on the interview.


	4. Lance

When Honerva said that she would get him an interview with Coran he thought in a few weeks, not the Monday after everything went down. He was rudely awakened from his afternoon nap by his bodyguard pounding on his door. He got out of bed and hastily pulled on his robe and opened the door. He had been told to get dressed and be down in the lobby in fifteen minutes. He had stared stupidly at the bodyguard until he clapped in his face and got Lance moving. He dressed in what he dubbed as, “his interview suit”, and then was rushed to the lobby. 

The limo waiting out by the doors was not what he had been expecting. It was far larger than any of his cars, and by the group of fans huddled behind it, it was definitely less subtle. He turned questioning eyes on his bodyguard, who grimaced, though he was always grimacing.

“Coran sent a car.”

The driver looked like he had been picked up off the streets moments before, and smelled so heavily like weed Lance wouldn’t doubt it. He sent a tight smile at him as he opened the door, the driver whose name tag said Rolo grinned at him. Lance gulped and looked back with pleading eyes at his bodyguard who gave him a helpless shrug. Before he could say anything else Lance was being shut into the back of the limo. The windows were tinted enough that he felt trapped even as the appliances lit up with white light. There was an entire bar running along one side of the interior and a fridge probably packed with goodies. Lance ignored it. 

The car sped off sending Lance sideways against the door. He righted himself with a grumble. There was a partition between himself and the driver, he couldn’t see him. He sat back against his seat and looked at the texts Honerva had sent him regarding the interview. He had a script for this one, he rolled his eyes at it. He wasn’t going to say any of that shit, even if it earned him an earful. He sent a text to Hunk telling him he would be on that night, they tended to watch each other’s interviews. Lance missed working with him.

He looked out the window, steady rain was falling, making the windows waterfalls and he could barely make out the area they were driving through. It frustrated him beyond reason, used to the barely-there tint of his SUV’s windows. He liked to be able to see the cities he was in. His thoughts were halted as the horn blared and the brakes were hit hard enough for him to fall forward, banging his nose against the side of the bar. He sat up and cupped his throbbing nose.

“Shit.” it was swollen, but it didn’t feel like it was bleeding. He searched for a way to open the partition so he could ask what was going on. He could vaguely hear the driver screaming at someone, they yelled back. He found the little latch and yanked it open. His driver was slamming the door again and sticking his middle finger up at whoever he had been talking to. Then he roared away. Lance clutched the edges of the partition, barely staying up.

“Hey! What the hell man?! What was that?” the driver looked back at him with a look of panic on his face when he saw Lance’s purpling nose.

“Some jackass wasn’t paying attention. Nearly got himself hit.”

Lance cursed, that was exactly what he needed right now. Also, he was never getting in a limo provided by Coran again. Ever. He would rather ride the public bus.

“You’re driving like a maniac man. We have enough time. Let's not kill anyone.” he slammed the partition again. He cringed as his nose twinged. Digging through the bar turned up ice, which he pressed to the swelling. It stung but it was better than being on t.v. with a giant purple schnoz. He leaned back and closed his eyes, keeping the ice firmly to his face. He was taking his fuck it all weekend right after this. He was turning off his phone, sleeping till noon, and then hitting the town. This entire ordeal had been exhausting, he had never been good at handling drama like this. Normally when rumors were started about him he could laugh with it about the second party, now though, he didn’t even know the second party. That was another thing. Those eyes had been swimming in his mind ever since he left the studio that day. He had panicked when he realized he couldn’t remember exactly what the guy had looked like. Rewatching the entire cringe-worthy interview just to seal his image in his mind again. He felt stupid immediately after.

Lance berated himself savagely every time he would wander into thoughts completely overrun by the boy. He knew next to nothing about him. He knew his name, knew he was an intern, and that was it. For all he knew, the guy could be straight or taken. He had no right to even want to see the guy again. He probably hated Lance now, if their situations were switched he would hate him too. It made him sad though, thinking that the guy might hate him. Lance had admitted to himself that he wanted to hold the guy, as ridiculous as it sounds. He just reminds him of a little stray cat. Wild fidgety eyes, unruly black hair. He wanted to earn the trust in those eyes. Lance laughed at himself, quieting quickly as it hurt his nose. He realized he was doing the same thing his fans did to him. Keith would want nothing to do with him ever again, and the chance of finding him in L.A. was next to impossible.

The limo slowed again, this time without throwing him around. It came to a final stop and Lance braced himself for the flashes of light he could see outside of the limo. He prayed Ryan would be right by the door. The driver came around and opened the door for him, Ryan was there keeping everyone back. Lance rearranged his face, hoping his nose wasn’t too noticeable. He kept his head tilted slightly down with his smile cemented on his face, Ryan seemed to realize that he didn’t want camera’s on his face directly, not yet at least. He flanks close to his right and waves Ina over to close in on his left. He let himself relax a bit. Reporters normally weren’t that bad and normally it was he who had to be dragged away from engaging with them and fans, he just did not want camera’s in his face today. Not before this interview.

Lance was handed off to assistants when he got into the lobby of the building. They lead him back to makeup. He had done his own knowing the drill by now. Natural, a little highlight on his cheeks and the slightest brown tinted mascara and a dusting of eye shadow. His eyes were his selling points. One of the assistance bites her lip at his nose.

“What happened there sweetums?” she dabbed concealer around the worst of the purple and he hissed through his teeth. She apologized softly.

“Uh, the driver had to hit the brakes fast, some pedestrian wasn’t paying attention.” he had learned that to lie in Hollywood was to dig your own grave. She pursed her lips but nodded. They messed with his hair a bit but other than that they were pleased with how he looked. He was shown where to wait until his cue.

Coran was loud and corny. His accent had people rolling, and he was more or less entertaining. Romelle had been on his show when they had been filming _Laugh Lines._ She had admitted to feeling a little overwhelmed, though that could just be because of the movie type. It had been a romance. Lance had been Romelle’s secret boyfriend. They had been separated from each other the summer after high school and Lance had fallen out of love with her while she fell in love with someone else. It had been a fun movie and he still talked with Romelle occasionally. He could see what she had meant by overwhelming.

He was beckoned onto the stage when Coran shouted his name to the crowd. He walked out all smiles and waves to the enthusiastic audience. Coran was standing, clapping with them and grinning with all his teeth at lance. He took Coran’s hand, shaking it firmly. 

“Welcome to the show, my boy!” Coran clapped him on the shoulder with his other hand before motioning to one of the sickly orange chairs. Lance thanked him and sat down. Coran turned to the crowd and raised his hand to get them to quiet down. When they didn’t quiet he tried a different tactic.

“They are very excited to see you, Mr. McClain. Isn’t that right?” he called out to the crowd. They all went up in one loud cheer. Lance let out a laugh even though he was squirming to get started. Coran nodded and laughed along with the crowd until he turned back to Lance. The audience seems to get the hint now and quiets. Bright eyes then turned on Lance completely.

“So, you’ve recently had the chance to be in a Marvel movie, is that correct?”

Lance nodded, a bit confused as to why he was being asked this. Everyone knows that, or at least everyone who cares.

“Yes. Yes, I have. It was quite the experience.”

Coran clapped as if Lance’s answer had been the most entertaining thing. Lance just smiled, though his brows were beginning to pinch and his nose was throbbing at this point.

“And because you’ve been in this movie, you’ve garnered a lot more attention, yeah?” Lance nodded. “And like you are doing right now, you’ve had a lot more interviews.” Lance makes a fake face of incredulous realization. Coran points at him grinning. “ You know where I’m going with this. Come on Lance, the people want to know.”

Lance sat back in his seat, licking over his lips and staring up at the big screen to the right of the set that was sure to have a picture of the interview on it. He rubbed his hands together.

“Well like you said, and as I’m sure everyone knows, this weekend's interview stirred up a lot of drama.”

Coran was interrupting him before he could go on.

“I think that might be an understatement. The internet has been talking about nothing but it for the past few days. I mean look at this screenshot of the interview.”

Coran motions to the screen that Lance had been looking at earlier. A picture of Keith looking anywhere but at him was playing across it. Lance is actually happy to see the picture. Keith looks even cuter than Lance had realized. His shirt had been more wrinkled than he had initially thought. Half the little saying on it was blurred because of the profanity. His dark thick brows were scrunched.

“I can only imagine how uncomfortable this must have been for you.”

A new picture flashed up and Lance wondered why they didn’t just play the whole damn thing. This one was Lance, his face twisted in real confusion. That had been at the very beginning when Lance had first walked in. He really was just confused.

“I don’t see what’s so controversial about this one. I was confused. Which is all my face says.”

Coran nodded thoughtfully. “ Why were you confused, Lance?”

He was being interrogated, it was like they were trying to prove Keith had done something unforgivable.

“I was confused because I was expecting someone else.” he sat forward now his nerves were humming. He should not have done this. He didn’t remember the last time he had felt so perturbed about something. “ When the interview was planned I was told that I would be interviewed by someone else, so when I didn’t recognize the interviewer I got confused. This was the beginning of the interview.”

Coran nodded again. “ And how about this one. I think this is the one that caused all the drama.” 

This one was a clip. Lance looking blank-faced as Keith asked him what he would rather be doing. Lance could have smacked his forehead. Lance had to admit he looked a little more hurt then he had been. He just was thinking about going home when Keith asked the question. Not to mention Keith’s voice didn’t hold any of the fake cheeriness that the interviewers normally portrayed.

“You look pretty upset lad.”

Lance granted himself a sigh. “ Listen. I think that everyone is overthinking this. It wasn’t the best interview, I agree. But Keith didn’t do anything that offended or hurt me. I was in a state of surprise the entire time. That’s all.”

“Are you not afraid that he may have been an overbearing fan like suggested by Allura.”

“Again, no. Keith was stepping in for the original interviewer because he had an emergency. I don’t think he wanted to be there at all.”

Coran seems to realize that he wasn’t getting the juicy scoop he had been expecting and flounders to keep the conversation going. “Does that not bother you?”

“What do you mean?” Lance asked.

“I mean, does it not bother you that he essentially wasted your time and just seemed to not care about anything?”

“Let me tell you all something,” he looks out over the crowd. “ I know what it’s like to be an intern. It’s tough if your job is to please whoever you’re trying to impress. Keith didn’t look any older than me. He’s probably still in college. If it weren’t for him my time would have been more wasted if they canceled.” Coran tried to say something but Lance was on a roll. The tightness in his chest slowly unwinding. “Another thing, I was told the interview would not be released, and it shouldn’t have been, because you know who’s time we did waste?” he pointed out into the crowd. “All my fans and anyone else who watched it. That interview was supposed to be at least twenty minutes long, I don’t think it even hit the ten-minute mark. So if any time was wasted it was everyone who was waiting for the interview to come out. You all are attacking the wrong person.”

The whole set was silent. Coran’s red eyebrows were raised nearly to his hairline. Lance could feel the audience holding their breaths. Lance is too, he has no idea what is about to happen. Then Coran starts clapping, getting the crowd to join him. He reaches over his desk and motions Lance up. He stands, letting Coran pat him on the chest. The fuss dies down and Lance sits back in his seat.

“So Lance, I’m curious and I’m sure everyone else is too, why are you standing up for this guy?” 

“Simple. He didn’t do anything wrong, and the amount of hell he’s been getting over the last few days isn’t fair to anyone.”

Coran chewed his top lip, the auburn hair of his mustache getting tugged by his bottom teeth.

“Well, folks I think that we have all seen a new side of Lance here. Hero and social justice warrior. It was a pleasure having you on my show.”

The abrupt farewell had Lance’s stumbling to stand and take Coran’s hand. He was wrapped in a hug and then shooed off stage. He wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened but he was grateful for the fact that it was over. A woman he doesn’t know intercepts him as he's heading towards Ryan and Kolivan’s hulking forms. He was going to convince them to call a car of his own, or a taxi, anything. Just not that fucking limo. He stops short in front of her. Her smile is large and so white he wants to look away.

“Mr. McClain, I’m so glad I caught you before you vanished. I’m Riner, I represent Vanity Fair. I was wondering if-”

He cut her off by raising a hand. It was probably rude, but he knew what she was going to ask.

“I’m sorry if you want to know if I’d be willing to do an interview, I would, just not on this subject, and not now. I’ll give you my agent’s information, but I’m not going to be available for a few weeks.”

He dug one of Honverva’s cards out of his pocket and handed it over. He moved past her ignoring her sputtering. His mind one his room and the nice bed there, Kolivan and Ryan were standing at attention.

“Can we call a cab? Or another car?” he rarely let himself whine the way he was. Just because he had money didn’t mean that he should throw it in everyone's faces. Ryan nodded and pulled out his cell phone. They walked as he talked and thirteen and a fifteen minutes later Lance was getting into a cab. Kolivan rode with him and Ryan took the next one.

“Are you okay?” Kolivan’s voice startled him. He wasn’t big on talking and Lance was sure that he had only heard him talk a few times.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Tired I guess.” he was, even though he had been napping before this entire thing. Not to mention it was only about ten-thirty. Kolivan nodded and they didn’t say anything else on the way back to the hotel. 

Ryan and Kolivan slept in the room right next to his, so they bid him goodnight and disappeared into their room, him into his. He shucked off his clothes, walking into the huge bathroom. The shower was one of his favorites. He liked to categorize hotel room showers. This one was probably a nine out of ten, with only one in New York beating it out. He washes the product out of his hair, sighing as it starts to feel natural again. He stayed under the spray far longer then he should have, but the silence of his room wasn’t something that he was desperate to get back to. His fingers were pruney by the time he turned off the water and stepped into the steamed bathroom. The L.A. lights glinted off the glass of the balcony and his pool glowed blue-green casting waves like reflections across the floor, brushing against the bed skirt. It was warm enough outside that Lance cracked the balcony door before crawling into bed. A glance at his phone said that it was midnight. 

After an hour of laying atop the comforter staring at the ceiling, tracing the wavering blue lights, he sat up. He had a sudden intense craving for a burger. A nice simple burger, pink in the middle with too much mustard that he would most likely have to wipe off with a napkin. He could find a place like that. He was sure of it, a diner maybe open twenty for hours. He was sliding from the bed and dressing before he could convince himself otherwise. He left his phone resolutely on the bedside table. Ryan could track him with it, and he would be there and back before anyone noticed. Still, he pulled a baseball cap low over his eyes. He’d take a side door out of the building. Making sure he had cash, he didn’t want to pay with a card, and his room key he left. He closed his door softly, excitement singing through him.

He hailed a cab once he was out on the curb. The cabbie didn’t give him a second glance, just put the directions Lance gave him into the GPS. His eyebrows did raise a little at the distance, but Lance figured the hotel where he got picked up was enough to say he had money. The ride was pleasant, the cabbie played soft static-filled jazz and Lance watched the city flash by in gold, blue and red streaks. If there was anything Lance had learned about all the cities he had been to and all the cities he had lived in, it was that they never slept. Not completely. There were still places that were alive with activity even at one in the morning. He didn’t mind that, not really. It kept him sane, and the constant hum allowed his mind to focus on something else besides how completely alone he was.

The lights were thinning now, as were the tall buildings. The smaller lower parts of L.A. weren’t quite as bright. It was more empty, more homeless sleeping at bus stops and by walls. The diner he had found was small, the sign flickering, the pavement of the parking lot cracked. There were no cars in the lot, and as far as Lance could see no one else inside but the open sign was still on. He played the cabbie generously before getting out. He knocked his cap up as he walked through the doors. A tired-looking woman with graying brown hair pops her head out from behind the drink machine. She bustles out and picks up a menu.

“Hey there. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” she said as she handed him the menu. “You can sit wherever you want hun.”

He took a booth by a window. The cracked plaster creaking as he slides across it. He orders a hot chocolate and then asks for some time. He isn’t sure if he’s actually hungry or if he just was longing for some regular food. He orders the biggest burger they have. He sips his chocolate, it’s tasteless and so hot that he stings his tongue. There isn’t much to do but listen to the sounds of the kitchen and try to catch whatever songs are playing on the shitty speakers overhead. Something eighties he decides. 

The waitress slides him a plate piled with a teetering burger and sizzling fries. She refills his mug casting glances at him. She props a hand on her hip and holds the pot of chocolate close to her chest.

“Are you traveling through?”

Lance nods, it’s the easiest explanation.

“I’m guessing something is bugging you?” 

Lance raises an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah? What makes you so sure?”

She laughs, loud and boisterous. It fills the empty diner in the most perfect way. Not too loud and pouring in the emptiness softly.

“No one comes into a diner at one in the morning if something ain’t bothering them. That’s just the way things are. Especially not someone like you. You’re dressed like you can afford this entire block.”

She was right, he supposed.

“I’m just lonely I guess. Needed some comfort food.” he wasn’t sure why he was telling this to a perfect stranger, or perhaps that’s the reason he did because she was a stranger. She didn’t expect anything from him. She wasn’t going to look at him with false pity purposefully molded for the camera. 

“Well, this is the place for you then. Don’t hesitate to shout if you need anything.”

Half an hour later the burger is gone and only a few fries are left. A large piece of chocolate pie is being slid across the table in front of him. He looks up in confusion, she smiles at him.

“On the house love.”

Even though he can afford the entire block.

It’s the best chocolate pie he has ever eaten and he savors it. The peace of the night is destroyed by the rotor of an engine. The windows are momentarily washed out by a blast of light. When it clears Lance can admire the bike. Sleek and beautiful, her red chrome body glints in the light cast through the windows. His attention is drawn to the rider as they dismount. Their pants catch his attention first, red plaid pajama bottoms that look like they’ve seen better days, though he supposes it makes sense, it being the time it was. Then the rider is taking off their helmet and Lance is dropping his fork on his plate. He’s standing pressing himself closer to the window. 

Messy black hair, messier than before from the helmet. Pale skin, full pink lips. He looks up then, Keith looks up then. Their eyes catch, and Lance’s heart tumbles over itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I putting as many cliches in this as I can? Yes. Yes, I am. 
> 
> I will get around to responding to your comments I promise.
> 
> As usual, thank you for reading.


	5. Keith

Well fuck me, Keith thinks vehemently. This can’t be happening. He was dreaming he had fallen asleep blushing, his heart pounding at Lance’s words in the interview. He was just dreaming that he had decided to go out to get a burger after he couldn’t sleep. This wasn’t happening. There was no way Lance McClain was staring at him through the window of his favorite diner. He was though, his blue eyes blown wide, an odd look on his face. Keith could leave, but right as he takes a step back Lance is speed walking to the door.

Damnit. Lance is throwing the door open and Keith was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was in his old pajama bottoms and a hoodie with a hole in the back, not to mention he had spent most of the night swooning over the guy. He clutches his helmet close to his chest as Lance marches towards him. Keith wonders if Lance is going to hit him, or at least grab him and hold him until his bodyguards get there to beat the shit out of him. For all he knew Lance could’ve just lied to appear like a good guy in the interview. He’s cringing back before he can check himself and Lance is stopping short. He stops very close to him. Close enough that Keith can see the freckles that must have been covered in his interview. Close enough that he can smell Lance’s soap.

“It’s you right? I didn’t just march up to a stranger did I?”

Keith opens his mouth, then closes it floundering for words. Lance’s eyes are darting all over his face, his lips fall into an easy smile, and his eyes light up. 

“It is. It is you.” he looks delighted then. He looks like he wants to pick Keith up and spin him around. He does step closer. “I thought I’d never see you again, not in person at least. Well that’s not true. I thought I might see you again if my agent kidnapped you and buried you under her cat luggage. It’s you though that’s crazy I-,” he pauses his eyebrows scrunching a little bit. He lets out a nervous laugh and runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

They’re silent, Lance rocking back on his heels and Keith staring at him. 

“Oh my god.” Keith's hoarse whisper breaks the silent ice that had been lingering over them. “Oh my god. What are you doing here?”

Lance stops rocking and blinks, brief hurt crossing his face.

“O-oh, um, well I was craving a burger I guess.”

Keith nods, then shakes his head. This is too weird. Things like this don’t happen. You don’t embarrass yourself and a celebrity and then run into them at one of the crappiest diners in L.A. This is the universe's fault. He’s sure of it, he just doesn’t know why.

“Yeah, I mean that happens to all of us. It’s why I’m here. But what are  _ you _ doing here?”

Lance seemed even more offended now, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting.

“Can I not go where I want?”

“No! I-I meant aren’t there other places you could go? Or do go, where like you have the entire place to yourself?” why was he asking stupid questions? Especially as Lance’s face became more and more confused.

“I mean, yeah I could, but I wanted to get away from that for a while.”

Keith is staring at him like a fucking idiot again. A constant stream of  _ oh my god  _ was running through his mind. He couldn’t think straight. So he says it again.

“Oh my  _ god. _ ”

Lance is stepping back away from him. Arms forming a tight shield around his chest. Keith was making a mess out of himself again. He runs a hand up through his hair roughly tugging at the roots.

“Shit. I cannot fucking talk to you.” Keith turned his back to Lance. His heart was beating so fast he thought he would faint. He should have stayed home.

“Do you hate me?”

Keith whirled around to face the celebrity again. Not expecting the broken tone, and definitely not expecting the large sad blue eyes. That look alone, left Keith feeling gutted.

_ “What?”  _ it comes out a lot harsher then he wanted it too and Lance flinched back from him. For the first time, Lance seems to be considering the danger of approaching a person he had met once and under very impersonal circumstances.

“Well it just seems that you can’t stand to be around me. You literally just said you can’t talk to me.”

Lance fidgeted uncomfortably as Keith stared at him. 

“Yeah, yeah I did say that. Do you call this,” he motioned at himself. “ Talking? I literally sound like I’ve never had a conversation before.”

A perfect eyebrow quirked at him. Lance nodded and a smile played at his lips.

“So you literally can’t talk to me. Because you just can’t, not because you don’t like me?”

Keith nodded slowly, and Lance laughs at him. Loudly, to loud for the near-silent parking lot.

“You don’t hate me though right?” Lance asked him seriously after he had sobered up.

Keith sighed smiling despite himself. “Yeah. Why do you care if I hate you or not. I’m just the dude you messed up your interview.”

Lance’s face colors slightly and he looks down, rubbing a hand over his neck. “ I um. I just really wanted to see you again even though you probably don’t want to see me.” Lance breaks off wincing. 

“You wanted to see me again?” Keith asked his mind reeling. Lance nodded his eyes trained resolutely on the cracked asphalt at his feet. “Why?” 

Lance chewed his lip.

“Well for one, to apologize for the hate you’ve been receiving after everything. You don’t deserve it at all, and,” the lip gnawing was becoming incessant and painful looking. “ I just wanted to see you again. I liked you.”

Fuck me, Keith though vehemently, though this time it was more in wonder then in blind panic. Lance McClain wanted to see him again. Him. Jobless scruffy-looking Keith Kogane, who had humiliated him on television.

“You know, the milkshakes here are some of the best.”

Lance looked up at him a new light in his eyes. Keith smiled at him fully, even as he felt his cheeks turn pink.

“Want to go get some?”

They walk back into the diner, Susan greets him and he blushes at the over-exaggerated wink she tosses his way. They settle back into the both Lance had left. He looked with disappointment down at the piece of pie that was half-eaten.

“Two deserts never hurt anyone,” Keith said looking over the shake option. He knew in the morning this would all feel like a dream to him. Lance laughed and Keith peeked over the top of his menu at him. They settled on chocolate strawberry swirl, Keith got a large and Lance got a small. They sat in silence until the shakes came, and then sat in silence to drink them. Susan sent him several looks and less than subtle nods in Lance’s direction. Finally the silence is too much for Keith.

“I watched the show.”

Lance seemed to slump, the purple and pink striped straw falling from his lips.

“Ah. Yeah. Sorry if I-” Keith cut him off. Waving his hands around.

“No! No. Seriously I am so grateful for what you said. I thought that this would be the end for me.”

Lance picks at the fluff that’s coming through the numerous cracks of the booth.

"Did you think I was going to lie?”

Keith shook his head, mirroring Lance by putting his shake onto the table. The size of his dwarfed Lance’s by a lot. He tried not to feel weird about that.

“No, but I also didn’t know exactly what you were feeling during our interview. For all I knew you really were uncomfortable, and I really did make you post a melodramatic Instagram post.”

“You say whatever comes into your head don’t you?” 

Keith ducks his head, twisting his fingers together under the table. “ Uh, yeah. It’s a bit of a curse.”

Lance is laughing again, but it’s softer bleeding into the soft ambiance of the diner.

“I think it’s refreshing and cute.” Keith’s head shoots up at that. Lance’s cheeks are pink but his smile is smug. “Seriously though, not enough people do that.”

Keith nods, because what else is he supposed to do? Reach across the table and kiss Lance’s freckles, which was something that had been on his mind.

“What are you doing out here anyway?” that was another thing that had been on his mind. 

Lance stirs his straw in his shake, ruining the pretty machine-made swirl of pink and brown.

“Well, today was kinda crazy, and I guess I started to crave a burger, and maybe the feeling of being normal.”

Keith nodded, tempted to stir his drink, but at the same time not wanting to disrupt the pattern.

“Yeah, my day was pretty crazy too. I nearly got hit by a limo.” he laughed before looking up at Lance. He was sitting very still staring at Keith. His laughter died down. “What?”

“Well, it’s just that on my way to the interview, the limo I was in almost hit a pedestrian that wasn’t paying attention. My driver cussed them out but I didn’t get a good look at them.”

Keith was laughing again. Covering his eyes and gripping the table.

“I had the right of way. The walk sign was on and I was on the crosswalk. Your driver was the one at fault.”

Keith felt like his cheeks were going to split, he was grinning so widely. Lance looked horrified.

“I nearly killed you!” he sounded to genuinely considered that Keith giggled. He never giggled.

“No, your driver nearly killed me. Not you.” he pulls his straw back into his mouth speaking around it. “ Besides you never would have known it was me.”

“But then I wouldn’t be here drinking milkshakes with you.”

Keith full-on blushes. His milkshake suddenly became very interesting. His stomach was swirling.

“Well, you can’t come here and not get the milkshakes. The pie though is a good substitute though.”

Lance’s hand inched towards his across the table, Keith could’ve reached out and taken it, was so tempted, but then his phone rang. Both of them jumped. Keith scrambled to get it out of his pocket and tensed when he saw Shiro’s name. He gave Lance a tense smile and turned around to answer. He didn’t even say hello by the time Shiro was shouting.

“Keith! Where the hell are you?!” 

Keith saw Lance flinch out of the corner of his eye. He cringed and held the phone away from his ear.

“Shiro, calm down.” he hissed. “I’m at Sylvester's. I’m fine, I just couldn’t sleep. How do you even know I’m not at the dorm?”

Shiro was quiet and Keith slapped a hand against his forehead. He breathed a quiet curse.

“Are you and Curtis fighting again?” Shiro’s silence was answer enough. Keith sighed worry and guilt eating his insides. “ You had the spare key right?”

“Yeah.” now that Shiro wasn’t yelling at him, Keith could hear how wrecked his voice sounded. Shiro was too gentle of a soul to deal with his and Curtis’ spats. That’s normally all they were and the guilt and shame in each was far too much for the situations. Shiro would spend the night in Keith’s bed when they would argue. Keith had gotten used to sleeping on the floor, sometimes preferred it to his bed.

“Okay, good. You can go ahead and go to sleep, I won’t be too much longer.”

“Okay.” Shiro’s voice was tired. The one-word answers were worrisome to Keith. Normally Shiro would ramble on and on in broken sobs about the pathetic argument they would have. Normally ending in him talking about nothing in particular. Keith would zone him out a lot.

“Are you okay Shiro?”

The phone was back at his ear now. Shiro’s wet sigh shook the connection.

“I’ll talk about it tomorrow okay? Be safe coming back.” he hung up then and Keith stared at his phone before turning slowly to Lance. His perfect eyebrows were drawn in concern and his milkshake was sweating onto the table, but so was Keith’s.

“You alright?” the question catches Keith off guard, and he’s once again reminded what a strange situation this is. He’s literally drinking milkshakes with a celebrity at three am. That's not something that happens. Not to mention the guy is expressing real concern over Keith’s phone call.

“Yeah. I’m fine. My uh, brother is having a few problems and got worried when I wasn’t home. I figured he would be asleep so I didn’t tell him I was leaving.” he was rambling he realizes. He doesn’t ramble. He barely talks. Lance made him feel like he could talk, which added yet another layer to this sandwich of confusion.

“Do you need to go?” Lance’s voice sounded casual and he is twirling his straw again. 

The thought of leaving Lance, the cracked booth the melted milkshake, sounded awful. If he could he would freeze this moment and never leave.

“Yeah. I should probably go.”

Lance’s face falls for a split second, he’s fast to rearrange his face, but Keith still notices. He wants to spend just a little more time with Lance.

“Can I drive you back to where ever you came from?” he expects Lance to say no, but Lance’s eyes light up like Christmas and he looks out the window at Red.

“On your bike?” 

Keith laughs, “Of course. What else would I use.” he scoots out of the booth and Lance scrambles after him.

Keith pays for both shakes and tips Susan with the biggest bill he has in his wallet. She sends him a smirk her eyes going to where Lance was practically vibrating at the door. Keith blushes but smiles back.

He has one helmet, which he gives to Lance. He fights him on it, but Keith explains that one, he’s the more experienced rider, and two he doesn’t want to be responsible for a celebrities death. In the end, Keith helps Lance clip it one and then settles on his bike, kicking up the kickstand and revving the engine. He looks expectantly at Lance who seems awed by the roar of the bike.

“Sit behind him and hold onto my waist,” Keith calls over the engine, patting the space behind him and showing Lance where to put his feet. Lance hesitated for a split second before sliding into the space. His warmth makes Keith shiver. 

“I wasn’t kidding. You're going to want to hang on.” Lance wraps his arms around Keith loosely. Keith shakes his head and pulls Lance’s arm until they were flush and Lance’s arms were locked. Only then did he look back to ask where he was going. Lance is huddling close to him, his face turned away and down. When asked where Lance was going he got the mumbled answer of the grand Lion Hotel. He knew where that was.

Keith had always loved riding his bike. Any bike really. The feeling of flying and that danger it held. Weaving in and out of traffic, feeling the wind of his face. He was a speed demon as Shiro liked to say, but with Lance clinging to him he drove far slower then he would have if he were alone. Riding with Lance gave him a new type of thrill. He clung to Keith so closely that he could feel Lance’s jumping heartbeat. He was grinning like a maniac into the wind. Every once and a while he’d take a turn to sharply and Lance would gasp, hands digging harder into Keith’s hoodie. 

The ride was over too soon and they got to the golden lit hotel in the blink of an eye, at least to Keith. Lance clung to him even after they had come to a complete stop. Keith turns to look over his shoulder at him.

“You okay?” he keeps startling himself with how gently his voice has been at certain times. Lance slowly peels himself away. His eyes look frenzied but he’s smiling.

“That was fucking amazing.”

Keith grinned back at him and hopped off the bike to help him dismount. He helped Lance take the helmet off when he was finally on stable ground. Lance blinked pretty blue eyes at him when it was finally removed completely, rubbing a hand through his hair. Now that it was time to say goodbye, Keith had nothing else to say.

“Thank you for the milkshakes Keith, and the bike ride.”

“Of course.”

Lance watched him for a little stepping closer before stepping away. 

“Well, goodnight. I’m so happy I got to see you again.”

“Goodnight Lance, and me too.”

Lance smiled at him again and turned to walk away. Keith watched him his heart hurting a little bit. He sighs and plops his helmet back on, swinging his leg over the bike. He starts up and is pulling away from the curb when Lance comes dashing back across the sidewalk to him. 

“Sorry, but I cannot just let you leave. I want to see you again.” Lance was biting his lip again like he expected Keith to speed off.

“Give me your phone.” Lance reaches for his pocket before cursing.

“Fuck. I left it in the room. Here, do you have a pen?” Keith did by some miracle have a sharpie. Lance holds his hand out in front of Keith’s face. “ Write your number.” 

Keith blinks at him, “ It’s sharpie.” Lance nodded his hand still held out expectantly. Keith sighs and writes his number on Lance’s hand.

“Great! Now give me your phone and I'll give you my number.”

Keith shook his head handing Lance the marker. “ If I wrote on you, you write on me.” Lance looks so happy Keith isn't sure he's not the sun. Lance bends low over Keith’s palm. The writing tickles but Keith doesn’t mind in the slightest. Lance straightens and admires his work. On Keith’s palm is a number and Lance’s name with a smiley face under it. As if he would forget who’s number this is.

“Before I let you go I was wondering if I could ask a favor. I would understand if you said no, but as I said before, I really want to see you again. So, could you be my fuck it all weekend guide? As in take me to all the local treasures?” Lance had an unfair advantage over Keith. How was he supposed to say no to those blue eyes? Not to mention the idea of spending a weekend with Lance walking through locally owned shops sounds amazing.

“Yeah. I’d like to do that. Text me with details.”

Lance is beaming again and Keith feels himself slipping far into the land of no return for this boy.

“Thank you! I will. I’ll let you leave now. Bye Keith.”

“Bye Lance, night.” Lance waved as he walked backwards towards the door. Keith made sure he got inside before revving his engine. He grinned the entire way back to his dorm. His heart twirling happily in his chest.


	6. Lance

Lance was giddy. He walked into the lobby of the hotel with a spring in his step, the lady at the counter looked him up and down, he beamed at her as he stepped into the elevator. He couldn’t stop staring at the number written in bold black on his hand. He couldn’t really believe that any of that had actually happened, but the number on his hand proved it. He had seen Keith again, and not just seen but ridden his motorcycle pressed tightly against his back. He had had shakes with him. Lance buried his face in his hands, smiling like an idiot and refusing the urge to squeal like some teenage girl. The best part is though, he was going to see Keith again and hopefully for an entire weekend. 

He practically skipped into his room and flopped onto his bed scrambling to get his phone. He put Keith’s number in and then stared at it. He wanted to text him, now. Right now. That might freak Keith out though, he didn’t want to come off as clingy. He put his phone down and rolled onto his side putting his back to it. He was still smiling so hard his cheeks were hurting. He pressed his face into this pillow and bunched his comforter up around his chest. He felt like his heart was going to explode. He saw him again, he was going to see him again, he didn’t hate him. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to go to sleep now, and his phone was tempting him. He couldn’t text him though. Keith would get annoyed with him and then never want to talk to him again. He’d just wait until Friday. What if Keith changes his mind though. He was suddenly sitting up in bed. He had just given his number to a stranger. The fuck was wrong with him? Keith could give that to anyone.

Lance bit his thumbnail a habit that he had beaten but seemed to come back when he got anxious. He could be in danger if that number got out to anyone. They had written on each other in Sharpie. He gasped and looked at his hand again. They had written on each other with Sharpie! He trips out of bed and runs into the bathroom running his hand under the faucet, scrubbing at it with soap. It faded a little bit but it was still noticeable.

“Fuck.” he hissed. Perhaps he had not thought this through completely. He had no idea who Keith really was. He stared at himself in the mirror hating himself a little bit. He didn’t know why his brain did this to him. It was like it didn’t like him being happy. He’d be happy about something and then his brain would start going over every possible horror that could happen. He scrubbed at his hand for a while longer and still the numbers wouldn’t go away. He sighed as he dried his hand. He needed to teach himself to stop getting so attached to people. He didn’t have room in his life for that and he knew that. His phone pinged and he froze.

He approached it carefully peeking at it from the side of the bed. The screen went dark before he could see who it was. He sucked in a breath and turned it back on, his stomach flipped.

**_Keith:_ ** _ Just checking to make sure you got in alright.  _

Holy fuck, this boy was the sweetest creature to walk the planet. Lance’s hands were shaking as he typed out his response. Once, twice, three times. By the fourth he felt like crying, why was it so hard to say,  _ yeah I got in fine.  _ He hung his head and let out a deep breath, all he had to do was act natural. That should be easy. He glanced at the little numbers at the bottom of Keith’s text, it had been almost ten minutes since he sent it. That was fine right? He shouldn’t respond too fast, that would make it seem like he was waiting for Keith to text him. He groaned and typed out a quick,  _ got in safe. You?  _ He cringed at the formality of the text, but they weren’t at the emoji stage yet so maybe he was fine.

In all the five minutes it took Keith to reply Lance chewed away at his thumbnail. He was to the point that throwing his phone over the balcony seemed like a better option than waiting, but then it was pinging. He looks at it, not breathing, even closing one eye.

**_Keith:_ ** _ Cool. Hey at least we know the numbers work _

Lance chewed his thumb harder at that.

**_Me:_ ** _ why wouldn’t they work? You think I gave you a faulty number Mr. IDon'tKnowYourLastName _

**_Keith:_ ** _ Its kogane, and idk I mean you could’ve _

**_Me:_ ** _ oh cool. Mines McClain _

**_Keith:_ ** _ I know lance _

Lance smacked his forehead, stuffed his face into his pillow, and groaned with everything he had in him. Why was he such a fucking idiot? Of course Keith knew his last name, he didn’t know a single person that didn’t. It was all over the internet and posters. Now Keith was going to think he was stupid, or that he thinks Keith is stupid, which he doesn’t. His phone pinged again, pulling his mind from the gross spiral it was quickly falling into.

**_Keith:_ ** _ don’t worry about it. Happens to the best of us. It’s not like you ever told me your last name. _

Lance is in trouble, he decides. Complete and utter trouble. The last time he had had a crush this huge he had been a senior in high school and was so caught up on this girl in his class he could hardly breathe around her. He needed to keep reminding himself how stupid he was being. He had talked to Keith twice now, and yeah, the guy is literally as sweet as the shakes they had. Not to mention way cuter than Lance had realized, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t secretly a serial killer,  _ or  _ had weird eating habits. Like making his ramen with milk. Lance shivered and then groaned in annoyance at himself. He is acting like he has never met an attractive person before, or a nice one for that matter.

**_Me:_ ** _ Oh okay. Yeah no worrying here. Worry-free. _

He should stop. He should go drown himself in his pool. Maybe throw himself off the balcony. Anything to end this awful interaction. If Keith didn’t think he was stupid before he definitely did now.

**_Keith:_ ** _ Um good? And you don’t need to be so nervous talking to me. I’m not like special or anything. I literally nearly got hit by a limo earlier, soooooo _

**_Me:_ ** _ Yeah but that wasn’t your fault _

**_Keith:_ ** _ Still. What a stupid way to die. Especially in L.A. _

Lance laughed out loud at that. Grinning at the screen again. He bit his lip, excitement rolling through his stomach. 

**_Me:_ ** _ I mean I guess? But what’s a non-stupid way to die in L.A. _

Keith responds far quicker then Lance had expected.

**_Keith:_ ** _ sneak into a celeb party, pick up random drink, turns out it was poisoned by an assassin in hopes of killing said celeb. You die, but you’re kind of a hero _

Lance stares at his phone gobsmacked.

**_Me:_ ** _ the fuck?! _

**_Keith:_ ** _ I might read too much Agatha Christie _

Lance’s mind immediately goes to a mellow looking Keith, sitting in a window seat, black hair falling softly on shoulders that were graped in one of Lance’s shirts, mystery novel held up to the light, Keith’s dazzling eyes moving from line to line; pink lips murmuring the words. 

Fuck.

Lance rolled his burning cheeks against the coolish pillow.

**_Me:_ ** _ I have to admit I haven’t read any of her stuff _

Or much of anything Lance thought a little bitterly at himself. 

**_Keith:_ ** _ So? Lots of people don’t read. Nothing wrong with that. _

**_Me:_ ** _ You do say whatever comes to your head _

**_Keith: ┐(￣ヘ￣)┌_ **

**_Keith:_ ** _ That’s me shrugging by the way _

Lance laughed, loud and hard. Probably harder then he should have, but the stupid thing actually looked like Keith, and the fucking dork had explained what it was to him. Lance’s face and heart were going to explode at this rate, and his body was finally realizing that it was fucking late. He didn’t want to say goodby yet, afraid to wake up and find this had all been a very elaborate dream. He wasn’t sure he could find the strength or words to tell Keith goodnight, and possibly slip in an invitation to text him back. Tell him he didn’t mind at all and was currently suffering from crippling loneliness.

**_Keith:_ ** _ Hey it’s pretty late, I have to go job hunting tomorrow and class, so imma say goodnight. _

Well, that took care of that anxiety Lance thinks. 

**_Me:_ ** _ Okay. cool. Night, and thank you. _

**_Keith:_ ** _ Night. Text me with details. _

Lance stared at his phone until it went dark. Then he put it onto his charger on the bedside table. He was fine, this was fine. He rolled over and screamed into his pillow. Friday could not come soon enough for him.

When his alarm blared at six in the morning he realized the error of his wish. He felt dead. Kolivan was knocking on his door, in his own special way, meaning he was banging on it with everything he had in him. Lance drug himself out of bed stretching his arms up and over his head, his eyes caught on the number written across his hand and his heart did a weird half dive, struggling between panicking over it and rejoicing over it. Kolivan was getting impatient, so Lance stuck his hand up his shirt and pretended to be scratching his stomach as he opened the door. He yawned and it was only half fake. 

Kolivan narrowed his eyes at him and Lance tried to look as innocent as he could. Kolivan peered into the room behind him at his bed as if Lance would be stupid enough to bring someone back for the night. He seemed suspicious still and lance stepped out of the door rolling his eyes. It gave him a chance to fold his arms over his chest when the belly scratching was starting to look unnatural, even if it was super annoying. Ryan popped his head in through the door and rolled his eyes at him, smiling sympathetically at Lance. He shrugged, determined to keep his arms folded.

“Have you guys had breakfast yet?” he asked. Another eye roll from Ryan.

“Of course we have. He wakes up at fucking five every morning. Remind me to stay with Ina next time round.” 

Lance moved around his bodyguards and into the bathroom after Kolivan had cleared it. Lance wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking for but he did it with every hotel room in every city. It was a sanctuary of sorts and Lance took to scrubbing his hand. He heard his phone start to ring and cursed. It wasn’t coming off any more than it was last night. He flushes the toilet just to make it seem that he wasn’t in there frantically scrubbing his hands. Then he hurried across the floor to pick up his phone. Ryan raised an eyebrow at him.

“Honerva the bitch?” Lance waved him away and answered with the peppiest hello he could muster off of three hours of sleep.

“Lance, you have a brunch today at ten.” 

No hello, no good morning, no how are you. Right to the point, which he sometimes appreciated, not this morning though. He sat down on the couch and ran a hand through his hair. He needed a shower, not that it mattered right now.

“What? You said I was done after Coran.”

Honerva sniffed and Lance could have sworn he heard a cat in the background, no, a chorus of cats.

“How many times do I have to tell you that, we are trying to make sure people know your name. Fucking off to do whatever the hell you want to is not going to help you with that.”

Lance sighed looking over at Kolivan and Ryan. They grimaced at him and Kolivan spoke into his radio, probably arranging a car.

“Okay, fine. But Honerva this is the last thing okay? I’m going to get burnt out.”

He wasn’t going to let himself get burnt out the way he had when he first started. He had never felt so lost and his entire body had hurt. His mind had turned against him, worse than it normally was. Constantly berating him when he didn’t do enough and then becoming exhausted when he did. He had been miserable, and it had taken his mama who felt light-years away to get him out of his state. He had promised both her and himself he would never let that happen again. Even if it meant speaking rudely to Honerva.

She was silent before letting out her own sigh. There were definitely cats now.

“Fine. But you had better take every opportunity you can at this thing. Understand?”

Lance confirmed that yes he did understand and that no he didn’t plan on embarrassing her, or his name. He was sure she was referring to the interview with Coran. He was just agreeing with everything she said at this point, just to get her off the phone. Upon her hanging up Lance threw his phone onto the bed and ran both hands through his hair, tugging at the ends. It was six-thirty, he had about three hours before he needed to leave. A shower and a big breakfast sounded nice. 

“I have a brunch thing to go to at ten. Honerva is going to send me the address. I’ll send it to both of you.” 

They nodded and stepped back out of his room talking quietly to each other. Lance waited for the door to close before throwing a slight tantrum. He kicked the couch which he immediately regretted, his foot flaring with pain. This served to annoy him more and he stomped around like a three-year-old. He wanted to sit on the floor and bawl like a three-year-old. He was tired and the thought of interacting with anyone else today was sickening. He calmed down after laying on the shag rug at the foot of the bed for fifteen minutes. He sat up, crawling piteously towards his wardrobe. He opened it and sat back on his knees pouting at the array of clothes. He needed something that would fall over his hand if the number wasn’t going to come off. He had two pastel sweatshirts. One pink and one yellow, both were large enough that only the tips of his fingers showed. The only problem was whether or not the brunch was formal, and the fact that sweatshirts in late august might raise some eyebrows.

He hopped in the shower, hopefully by the time he was done, he would have his answer. He nearly fell asleep leaning against the marble wall letting the hot water pound into his back. He realized that he had yet to check any of his socials since the interview. Keith had taken all of his attention, and there was nothing he would rather focus on. The third time his eyes stayed closed a little longer than they should have, Lance got out of the shower, wrapping one of the big fluffy towels around his waist with a yawn. Checking his phone he was disappointed to see that yes, it was formal with the special instruction to wear his press suit. It would most definitely not cover his hand.

A couple of hours later Lance is in the back seat of one of his cars, never has he been so grateful for it. His hand is tucked under his leg and he decides it’s the hand he’ll hold everything with. His phone goes off making him sigh as he picks it up. His eyebrows lurch up and his heart jumps when he sees it’s Keith. He’s never opened his phone quicker.

**_Keith:_ ** _ do you know that when hippos are upset or angry they sweat red? _

Lance blinks down at the text, a stupid grin breaking his face.

**_Me:_ ** _ what? _

Keith takes a minute to respond, and Lance spends it glancing from phone to window and back again.

**_Keith:_ ** _ shit. Sorry that wasn’t supposed to go to you _

**_Me:_ ** _ who do you normally send hippo facts to? _

**_Keith:_ ** _ my brother… _

**_Me:_ ** _ not going to lie that’s equal parts odd and endearing _

Lance stared at the message he had sent. Was that too much? What if Keith was offended by it? God, what if he overstepped?

**_Keith:_ ** _ yeah I don’t think he feels the same. I do it to annoy him _

Lance laughed, he sounded like a lovesick puppy. He rubbed his forehead still grinning down at his phone, he glanced up. Kolivan was watching him through the rearview mirror eyes narrowed. Lance let the smile slip off his face and looked down again with red cheeks.

**_Me:_ ** _ my bodyguard is staring at me weird, I better stop texting you. For now at least _

**_Keith:_ ** _ yeah well I'm waiting to be interviewed so I better go too _

His phone went quiet after that. When he chanced a glance up at Kolivan again, he was still watching him, how they weren’t dead yet he didn’t know. He sent him an awkward smile and then looked out the window. He wondered if there was any way he could make the week go faster, it was only Tuesday, he had an infinite amount of time left before Friday. 

The scenery outside the window began to become scarily familiar. The highrise mansions, the pools, and palm trees, all of it was coming back to him in gross hazy filled memories. Panic started to rise in his chest as they pulled up outside of a gate. Tall, made of black iron, with a booth and guard outside. Lance felt bile rise in his throat as they were let in and the mansion came into view. Ryan opened the door for him and frowned.

“You good? What’s wrong?” he asked as he gave Lance a hand out of the car. Lance opened his mouth, to explain but clamped it closed as the door to the mansion swung open and  _ he _ stepped out. All long tan limbs and long bleached hair. Lance could smell his cologne from the car. Lotor smiled at him, his eyes sparkling with mirth, Lance clenched his fists and bit his lip. He was going to vomit.

“Welcome, Lance! It’s so good to see you again!” his words were all sugary sweet but Lance could hear the familiar sneer beneath it. He clutched Ryan’s arm.

“Stay close to me.” it sounded pathetic but his guards were his last line of defense against the man. Ryan was still searching his face but looked over his head to where Kolivan was waiting. He felt like he was walking up to the gallows as they climbed up the walkway. Ryan and kolivan were so close they were brushing his shoulders, he had never been so grateful for them. He would gladly forgive all of Kolivan’s overprotectiveness from this day forth.

Lotor’s face was twisted into a grin that looked unnatural with his eyebrows drawn together. He holds out his arms, the robe he was wearing slipping down his chest. He obviously wants a hug, Lance doesn’t move. Lotor drops his arms. He eyes Lance’s guards but moves into the house leaving the door open as an invitation. Lance grabs the hem of Kolivan’s shirt as they cross the threshold. It’s pathetic but he’s at the point of panic. Kolivan puts a hand on his shoulder, as a silent promise. Lance feels a bit of relief as he hears other voices in the dining area, at least he won’t be alone with him.

“I was so excited to hear that you were in town. I just had to have you over for brunch. I hope you don’t mind my state of dress.” Lotor says smirking over his shoulder at him. Lance keeps his face carefully neutral. Refusing to give Lotor anything. It seems to do the trick as his face finally twists into something a lot less pleasant.

The dining room is huge, Lance knew it was though, and full of people he had never seen before in his life. A chair was pulled out for him and he sat automatically, sweat was running down his neck, hot against his chilled skin. Kolivan made to sit next to him but Lotor was sliding into the chair already. He smiled innocently up at the two guards. Lance sent his own hopefully reassuring smile at them. He didn’t think Lotor would do anything to him while they were in a full room. Still, he sat at the very edge of his seat.

The meal is awful. Lance had sat through his fair share of boring press conferences and dinners, normally with strangers too, but this was something he never wanted to experience again. Lotor insisted on serving him everything including the wine. Lance didn’t drink any of it. No one at the table attempted to talk to him unless it was to throw a drunken comment about the damn underwear ad. He knew that would come back to haunt him. A woman he was sitting across from kept winking at him. Her mascara was running and her eyelashes stuck together only to peel away from each other when she tried to open her eye again. He stared down at his crepe for most of the meal, and then he felt the hand on his thigh. He froze, sending a quick glance at Lotor. He was still talking to a huge man in a maroon suit, but the corners of his lips were quirking. 

Lance looked around for Ryan or Kolivan, neither was in the room anymore. Biting the inside of his cheek he grabbed Lotor’s hand and shoved it off of his leg. He didn’t know what Lotor was playing at, but he wasn’t some naive lonely newbie anymore. Lotor pushed back more incessantly, sliding his hand to Lance’s knee and then working his way back up. 

“Lotor,” he hisses, grabbing his wrist firmly. “St-” then there were cameras. Lance was momentarily blinded as flashes lit up all around him. Lotor smiled perfectly for them before looking over at Lance.

He needed out. He shoved back his chair and ran from the room. There was a bathroom on the ground floor to the left of the staircase and down a small hall. He slammed the door behind himself, clutching the sink with a white-knuckled grip. He was shaking. He fumbled his phone out of his pocket hitting the first number that was up. It should be Ryan. He squeezed his eyes shut and slid to the floor praying for him to pick up. He was getting desperate as it continued to ring, on the fourth one it picked up.

“Uh, hello?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, enter the villain of this story, and Keith's odd obsession with hippos.


	7. Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW:  
> Panic attack at the beginning. It's not bad but stay safe.

Keith nearly falls out of his chair when his phone starts ringing, then when he’s righted himself he nearly falls out again at the caller ID. He looked around the dim cramped waiting room he was sitting in to be sure he was actually still there. Lance is calling him. _Lance_ is calling _him._ Is that allowed? Is Lance allowed to call him? He already spent last night worrying over the texting and then longing to drown when he realized he’d sent the stupid hippo fact to Lance. This was unexpected. He glanced around at the other few people scattered about the room and answered a little hesitantly.

“Uh, hello?”

The sharp intakes of breath that greet him, have him pressing the phone closer to his ear.

“Lance?”

The sob that tears out of Lance’s throat is enough that he’s out of his chair clutching the phone with both hands. People are looking at him strangely, but he doesn’t care.

“Lance, Lance what's wrong?” he’s looking for the way out of the building he’s in. The halls are dark and he’s passed the same water cooler three times.

“F-fuck, I’m so sorry K-Keith.” Lance’s voice is weak, broken by sobs and gasps of air. Keith pauses in a doorway.

“Hey, hey no. It’s fine. Your fine.” Lance’s breath only starts coming faster. “ Lance, I need you to breath. You think you can do that?”

Lance gulps and it sounds wet and painful, when it does nothing to alleviate the lack of air he sobs again. Keith has never felt so helpless. He crouches on the floor. He has no idea where Lance is, who he’s with or what brought the sheer panic he’s going through.

“Lance, I need you to take a breath for me, yeah?” he knows Lance can’t respond but he feels such a lack of control he’s asking stupid questions. Lance’s breaths shudder. “Lance breath in slowly through your nose. Can you do that?” he listens for the subtle sound of the breath being taken. “Good. Okay now I’m going to count to three, and when I say three let it out slowly through your mouth. One, two, three.” he listens to Lance follow his instructions and he prays it will work.

They repeat the process over and over, Keith counting to three until he’s sure his voice will give out, calming Lance when more panic starts to filter over their connection. He only realizes how much time he’s spent crouched in a cold dark hallway when he sees the receptionist from the waiting room pause as she walks the opposite direction down the hall. He had been going the wrong way after all.

“Are you okay?” she asks him and he’s not expecting it. He nods and she sends him a wary smile. “I should tell you that we’re closing.” she keeps her voice so quiet it’s almost silent, letting Keith continue his soft counting. He stands now and follows her out of the building. It has to be sometime around one in the afternoon. The pain in his legs is a testament to the hour and a half he had been on the phone with Lance. He stops by his bike, nodding again to the receptionist.

“Keith?” Lance’s voice sounds torn up, but he’s breathing and talking properly now. The numbers falling from Keith’s lips slowly peter off. “Keith.” He doesn't say anything else not yet at least, but he doesn’t have to. The way he says Keith's name is enough.

“Are you alright?” his own voice sounds rougher than it normally is and he tries to subtly clear it. “Are you safe?” it had been a worry for Keith as he sat there with Lance. Lance cleared his throat loudly.

“I-I think I’m doing better. I don’t think I can ever thank you enough.”

“Are you safe?” Keith reiterated, ignoring the gratitude for now. Lance sucked in a breath, swallowing thickly afterwards.

“I don’t know. I meant to call my bodyguard but your number was the last one up, I-,” lance lets out a whimper that tears right through Keith’s chest.

“Where are you?” he swings a leg over his bike settling into the seat. Lance sputters.

“I doubt you can do anything. You have to have a code to get through the gate.”

Keith frowns. A gate needing a code meant Lance was probably in Beverly Hills or somewhere near there. 

“I’m handy with a knife, they can be very persuasive.”

Lance laughs and he sounds more like himself, he quiets sooner then he would though.

“Stay on the phone with me while I go find my bodyguards? Please, don’t hang up.” he sounds desperate. Keith shushes him quietly leaning back on his bike, he’s itching to help better.

“I won’t hang up, not until I know you're safe.” 

It’s silent after that, save for the sound of Lance’s quick breathing, and the echo of footsteps. Keith is antsy, quietly reminding Lance to breath.

“Talk to me.” the request is wavering, and Lance barely breathes it.

“Okay. Um, well last night after I got back to my dorm my brother was a mess.” he told Lance how Shiro hadn’t been asleep when he had gotten home. Just wrapped in Keith’s comforter covered in chocolate syrup.

“I ate the rest of the ice cream the night after the interview, so he settled on eating the toppings.”

Lance laughs quietly encouraging Keith to keep talking. Reporting to him that he hadn’t seen anyone from earlier and was getting nervous. So Keith kept talking. He told Lance how the argument had been a little more server then he thought it was going to be. They had been arguing about housing, moving in L.A. was never an easy task, especially not for two young college seniors. Curtis was tired of the crap hole they lived in and Shiro was worried about moving.

“I think they’re going to be fine though. Shiro’s just a bit of a baby sometimes. We even fell asleep watching Wall-E, so yeah.”

They both laugh over it, and Keith suddenly finds himself out of things to say.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”

Lance lets out a deep breath and then a slightly hysterical laugh.

“I’ll have to tell you later, I just found my people. Or they found me.”

Keith can hear people calling Lance’s name before the phone hangs up. He blanches at the abruptness of the phone call ending.

“Bye,” he says to the empty parking lot and silent phone . His voice a whisper.

Keith taps his phone on his thigh, staring at a group of pigeons scurry across the asphalt. He should call Pidge, maybe tell them about all of the craziness that’s been going on in his life, as of twenty four hours ago. He sighs, slipping his phone away and kicking up his kickstand. He isn’t sure how to spend the rest of the day, he actually feels a little floaty. His body still thrumming with adrenaline and worry, he could only hope that lance was safe. He flipped through the little notebook of possible places of employment. The luck he had been having has been abysmal. He got to the point where he was begging, telling the store manager that if they didn’t want him on the floor then he would gladly work in the back all day. It had still been a firm no.

The parking patrol officer was sending him nasty looks so he pulled out. It was an inconvenient part of the day. People would still be out at lunch and then as the afternoon wore on he would find less and less people willing to even talk to him. Not that he minded he supposed. There was always tomorrow. He had to admit to himself that he was a little miffed at Lance. The call had ended so unceremoniously, he had no idea what had happened afterwards. He decided not to dwell on it, he didn’t have to know, Lance wasn’t even trying to call him anyways. He puts it to the side of his mind and goes to find some cold water. His throat is still scratching every time he swallows.

A few minutes later he's sitting at an outdoor table at the first cafe he passed, and regretting his life choices. Two women are sitting at the table across from him. They’re sending him nasty looks, whispering loud enough for him to hear. If these are the types of fans Lance has, he feels bad for him. One of the woman's child is peering at him through the gaps of the chair he’s sitting on Keith offers him a small smile hoping it will appease him enough that he’ll turn away from him. The kid is creeping him out, and the glare from the mothers was making his skin crawl.

His phone rang and he flinched, maybe it was Lance. It wasn’t, in fact he didn’t recognize the number. Then again he had given several businesses his name and number. A woman’s voice is on the other side of the line when he answers.

“Is this Keith Kogane?” her voice is sharp and precise. He sits up a little straighter feeling a little foolish.

“Uh, yes ma’am.”

“Good. I’m calling to inform you that you have a job at the _Juane Lionne._ ”

Keith blinks, the name doesn’t sound familiar in the slightest. 

“Are you sure you have the right person? I don’t remember applying there.” 

The lady snorts. 

“Trust me. I have the right person. You were recommended and the owner highered you right away.”

Keith listened with his mouth hanging slightly open as the woman gave him directions to the restaurant, which was in the high end part of L.A., and instructions on what to do when he gets there.

“I hope to see you next Monday bright and early.”

“Okay. Um, thank you.” his spluttered acceptance and goodbye made him wince. The woman hummed and hung up. 

Well, Keith thought at least that’s over. He supposed he had nothing better to do then go home. He debated texting or calling lance back. Just to make sure he was okay. He decides against it. If Lance had wanted to talk to him still he would have. He calls Pidge instead.

When he gets back to his dorm Pidge is sitting on the ground leaning against his door. They eye him over their glasses as he gets closer.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” he ignores them as he unlocks the door. He pushes it open, sending Pidge scrambling to stand up before they fall into the room. They scowled at him and he shrugged before sighing at the state of his room. Blankets and bowls and tissue littered the floor. Pidge wrinkled their nose.

“Gross Keith.” still they flop onto his bed without a second thought. “Did you finish the chemistry?”

Keith looked over at them as he dumped the numerous used tissues in the trash. He goes to scrub his hands.

“Uh, yeah. I turned it in this morning. Why?”

Pidge shook their head. “ As proud as I am that you are actually doing your work, there was no way to get any of it correct without the volume five book. Which I know you don’t have.”

Keith squeezed his eyes shut. That makes a lot more sense now though. He hadn’t been able to find the proper chemical formulas. He could only find similar ones and used those instead. He sat down heavily by his bed and thunks his head back against it.

“Fucking awesome.”

Pidge looks over the edge of the bed at him. Their eyebrows furrowed.

“Keith what’s up? You look frazzled.”

Keith sighs lolling his head back to trace the cracks along the ceiling.

“I didn’t get much sleep last night, and then job hunting didn’t go as planned.” he chewed his lip debating whether or not to tell Pidge that he had spent the entirety of one job offer, calming a panicking celebrity, and was now worried sick about him.

“You can always tutor people.” Pidge seuggests, flipping through a binder in their lap. Keith barks a laugh at that.

“Yeah, that's a bad idea. You know I spout whatever comes into my head. I’d end up calling someone stupid, and making their lives awful.”

Pidge shrugs, “ Some people need a reality check.”

He smacks their leg and they cackle. 

“It’s fine now, I got a call saying I have a job at this restaurant. It was actually really weird. Like, I didn’t apply or anything. The lady said that I was recommended by someone and they hired me on the spot? I don’t know.”

Pidge hums.

“Well I mean that’s good right?” they ask, handing him their laptop so he can read over an essay they wrote. Keith shrugs tapping the touchpad to get the cursor moving.

“I mean I guess. I really wanted a job that had something to do with _writing_. And before you say anything, I can’t tutor.”

Pidge snorted. They were leaning over his shoulder reading the essay as Keith fixed it. Pidge had dyslexia, so oftentimes their essays were expertly written but words sometimes didn’t work how they wanted. It was how they became friends. They couldn’t fix it themselves so he did.

“This one looks better, I think you’re getting better.” he comments as he only had to fix at least three words in the first few paragraphs.

Pidge shrugs but he can tell they're pleased. It makes him smile. They go on in that manner. Keith fixing the essay and Pidge explaining the botched chemistry homework, until Keith is pouting. Keith keeps glancing at his phone hoping it would go off or ring, or even catch fire. He wanted it to do something. After the hundredth time of doing this Pidge reaches over his shoulder and closes the laptop, sliding off the bed to sit in front of him.

“Okay, who's the guy?”

Keith sputters and flails.

“W-what? There is no _guy._ ”

“Your obvious denial means that there is most definitely a guy. Keith this is good! When was the last time you got laid? If ever. Oh my god, _are you a virgin_?”

Keith feels his face burn. The words _Lance_ and _laid_ , were doing weird things to his stomach.

“Pidge, no.”

They grin at him, inching closer to him.

“No what? You aren’t a virgin?”

Keith’s ears burn hotter, he crosses his arms over his chest and resolves not to look at Pidge.

“Oh my god. You _are_ a virgin. Have you ever kissed anyone?”

Keith buried his head in his hands.

“Oh my god Pidge. Oh my god, yes i’ve kissed someone.”

“Where? The cheek?”

He scowls through his fingers.

“No. It was on the mouth, and there was tongue. So.”

Pidge was rolling with laughter, knocking over the papers they had stacked around, Keith sat there and burned, his arms crossed firmly over his chest.

“Pidge come on. It’s not funny. I just haven’t found the right guy.”

Pidge sits up running a finger under glasses where tears have gathered.

“Sorry, sorry. That’s fair. Hey maybe this guy will be the right one.”

“For the last time there is no gu-,” he’s cut off by his phone ringing. Pidge grins evilly as he scrambles for it. His heart jumps. Lance is calling him, not texting, _calling,_ on his own accord. He answers and before Lance can say anything Keith is talking over him.

“Are you okay?” Lance laughs softly and Keith’s stomach flips. He hears shuffling on the other side.

“I’m fine.”

The relief that washes through Keith is staggering and clears the worry leaving the slight annoyance he felt after Lance hung up on without a goodbye. He puts a hand on his hip.

“Well it was a pretty dick move leaving me to worry like that. I had no idea if you were okay. You didn’t even say goodbye.”

He ‘s very well aware that he’s pouting like a child. Lance sucks in a breath.

“I’m sorry.” his voice is soft and remorseful. “ I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wasn’t sure how my bodyguards would react if they saw me on the phone with someone. They already were freaking the fuck out as it was.”

Keith slumped. Now he felt like a dick.

“Yeah I understand. I’m sorry to.” it’s silent over the line, expect for light splashing. Pidge is watching him with a quirked eyebrow.

“Keith, I wanted to thank you. Really thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t stayed on the phone with me.”

“No. No, don't thank me. You were scared and hurting,” Keith moves across the room to step into the bathroom. The conversation seemed a little too private for an audience. “Besides, if I had been a jackass and not picked up, you would have found the number you were actually supposed to call.”

Lance laughs again, it sounds more like it was supposed to. Alive and bright and real.

“I think you were the person I was supposed to call.” Lance sounds so serious that Keith can’t help but grin even as he is blushing.

“Lance that was cheesy as fuck.”

“I know.” he can hear the smile in Lance’s voice, that's fine though. He’s smiling too.

“I’m glad you;re doing better.”

Lance huffs out a sigh. “What you must think of me. I spend what, and hour with you, and the next time we talk I’m panicking. You must think I’m a disaster.”

Keith shrugs even though Lance can’t see him. He leans against the sink, the cold sharp edge of the counter digging into his back.

“ I’ve never met a bigger disaster, but that's perfect. It means you’re human. I’d much rather talk to a human disaster then a perfect robot.”

Keith bites his lip as Lance stays silent. He might have just fucked up. It was bound to happen, but he hoped it would last a little longer.

“I cannot fucking wait to see you again.” Lance says it breathlessly, a laugh mingled in there somewhere. 

A few minutes later he’s bursting through the bathroom door staring at Pidge who looks back at him with disinterest.

“There's a boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved the comments on the last chapter! They were so fun to read, thank you so much for them!


	8. Lance

“I’m sorry Lance.” 

It was the third time Ryan had apologized to him since they had gotten back into the car. Kolivan hadn’t said anything when they had found each other, just put a large protective hand on Lance’s back and glared Lotor down as they walked through the foyer and out of the house.

“Ryan, it’s fine.” Lance is clutching his phone in a death grip. His blood is still singing from the conversation, and he needs to call Keith back and thank him for doing that for him. Especially as he remembered that Keith was looking for a job.

“It’s not though. You asked me to stay close and I didn’t, I should have.’

Lance put a hand on Ryan’s arm, cutting off his ranting.

“Ryan. Stop. It’s fine it is. It was a shit situation, to begin with. If I had known it was Lotor’s brunch I never would have gone. Stop worrying.”

He leaves the conversation at that and Ryan looks out the window biting his lip. Lance has his own set of worries to deal with. Starting with Lotor knowing he was in town and ending with the massive exploding crush he has on Keith Kogane and the fact that it was slowly turning into a not crush. He had no idea what to do with either of those things at this moment, sitting in the back of his car heading back to his room, so he copies Ryan and looks out the window.

He actually does opens the bottle of champagne when he gets back into his room. Right after slamming the door in his bodyguard’s faces, opening it again, apologizing; and then slamming it just as hard again. He takes an unhealthy chug from the bottle before grimacing and dropping it into the trash by his bed. It tastes like old club soda. His clothes hit the floor soon after the bottle makes an unpleasant clunking noise against the floor. He changes quickly, before crawling under the covers. He stares at his phone, pondering on what to do. He hadn’t even thanked Keith for the massive amount of time he stole from him. Should he call him back? He should most definitely thank him, but he was scared of saying something stupid and ruining any and all chances he had with him. He was back to first base. Worrying that Keith would never want to see him again because he had once more ruined something important to him. Lance was more of a hindrance at this point. Maybe he should cancel this weekend.

He was spooked. Very spooked. The time he had previously spent with Lotor was a dark spot in his memory. Something he never wanted to relive again. Was he scared of the guy? Yes. He had felt the dark spot of Hollywood only a few months into his blossoming career, and it had all started because some asshole wearing Louis Vuitton had offered to “ befriend him.” Lance grumbled and burrowed further under the blanket. He felt gross. Just as gross as he had after waking up to an empty bed the night after he spent it with Lotor. He had been young, and Lotor had been hot and kind, at least at first. Lance very quickly became a prize he showed off at parties and to his friends. He became more of an accessory that Lotor would occasionally fuck than a boyfriend. Something that he would show off in public, then disregard as soon as they were behind closed doors. He had been nineteen and his life was hell. Hunk had actually been the person behind getting him out.

Lance’s eyes widened. Hunk. He pulled himself out from under his blankets and grabbed his phone. He called Hunk, hoping that he wasn’t busy. He picked up after the second ring, in regular Hunk fashion.

“Hey, Lance! What’s up?”

Lance had never been so happy to hear his voice before.

“Hunk, I need a huge favor, and I don’t know if you can do it, buuuut...” he trails off waiting for Hunk to ask what he needs, biting his lip all the way. Hunk sighs.

“Okay, what is the huge favor.”

Lance swings his legs out of bed and plants them on the cool floor. The sun is still way too high and hot in the sky and Lance’s body knows that this god awful day is refusing to end.

“Do you think you can hook someone up with a job?” he waits and listens to the wind on the other end of the line. Finally, Hunk lets out yet another long-suffering sigh.

“What did you do now?”

Lance sputtered before turning around on his bed and flopping over the edge. He stuck his leg in the air, frowning at the ceiling as it blurs. He puts the phone on speaker and drops it onto the floor by his face. He figures being upside down will help the tears that are bound to threaten his existence stay where they are. He isn’t going to get through the retelling of this dry-eyed.

“So, I went to one of those brunch things today, and it was at Lotor’s house an-,”

He gets cut off by Hunk's outraged shout. He’s glad the phone isn’t right up against his ear.

“Lance, what?! Why the hell did you go?” he sounds outraged and lance waves his hands around even as stupid as the action is. Hunk is going on a tirade. Throwing in a few choice words and insults at both Lance and Lotor.

“Hunk! Oh my god. I didn’t know it was his house. I wouldn’t have gone if I had. You know that I wouldn’t have.”

“Well, what happened.”

Lance traced his fingers along the seam of the floor. Staring at the reflection of the pool water on the balcony doors.   
“It was seriously awful.” Lance huffs out a laugh that sounds far shakier then he’s comfortable with. “ I asked Ryan to stay close to me you know? I thought surely Lotor would try anything if we were in public, and he didn’t even care!” Lance can tell over the phone that Hunk is pacing. He can hear the slight creak of the floor he’s traipsing over.

“What did he do?” Hunk’s voice is dark and dangerous. Lance flinches.

“It wasn’t that bad, I mean it was and it totally freaked me the fuck out. He touched my leg a bit and then I freaked out and ran to the bathroom and practically had a meltdown.” he pauses biting his cuticle as he debated on whether or not to tell Hunk that he had called Keith on accident, sobbed to him and the guy stayed on the line with him. Keith was the entire reason that he was on the phone with Hunk in the first place.

“Lance, why didn’t you call me? I would have helped you.”

“I know Hunk, I do. I wasn’t really thinking straight and that’s the thing. I did call someone, and they helped me. A lot and they didn’t even have to.” He pauses again, squeezes his eyes shut, and takes the plunge. “ It was the interviewer that messed up that interview, and he was super sweet and patient and kind, but I totally didn’t mean to, and then I prevented him from getting a job, and I was wondering if you could get him one.” he takes a breath, “Here, in L.A..”

He cringes at the slap that rings over the phone. HUnk definitely just smacked his forehead. He sits up the blood going to his head getting to be too much.

“Okay, first. Lance, you cannot seriously tell me that you’re crushing on this guy! Second, why are you even talking to him in the first place? How do you have his number.”

Lance crossed his legs putting his elbow in his knee and his head in his hand.

“I know okay? I know it’s stupid, and I know I’m probably going to regret this in every way possible, but he was there for me. I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t answered. I just really want to pay him back for this. This is the second time he’s had trouble with a job because of me. Please Hunk?”

Silence then a sigh. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do, but I have to tell you, Lance, I don’t like this. You’re a celebrity and he’s just a regular joe. He could use you, your money, your connections for his own gain. I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Lance squeezed his eyes shut, pressure building behind his eyes, surprisingly for the first time during the conversation.

“I know Hunk. I’m sure nothing will come of it, but I still want to help him.”

“I’ll talk to my people,” Hunk says, “I’m sure they have a spot for him.”

“Thank you so much Hunk. It means everything to me.”

“Of course Lance, and do you need me to fly out there? I will in a heartbeat.”

Lance laughed softly, but the offer still made him feel nice. “ No. You don’t need to come out. I’m leaving in like a week. I’m done doing stuff until then so I should be fine.”

After far too many reassurances, Hunk finally said goodbye. Lance blinked down at his phone. He pulled up Keith’s number. He typed out a thank you. It looked fake and shallow, he would feel insulted if he got that. His social media alarm went off and he realizes that he’s forgotten to even check his socials in at least a day and a half. He snaps an upside-down picture of his balcony doors, wrote something about L.A. and late afternoon, then a tiny not quite real apology for not being active. He had more comments than last time on his last post. He felt his stomach roll as people were still raging about Keith. There were clips of the interview all over his fan pages over analyzing it. Lance rolled his eyes. Keith hadn’t seemed affected by it last anymore so he wasn’t going to worry about it. Lance was beyond tired as he drags himself off the bed and out onto the balcony. He stuck his feet in the pool and ordered up something. Kolivan was probably outside of his door so he would intercept the food first.

He called Honerva rubbing at his forehead and going over the wine options. He wasn’t going to get any, but it was tempting. It went to voicemail. Normally when she didn’t answer Lance would hang up and give up, but he needed her to hear this.

“Hey, um, I just wanted you to know that I fucked up the brunch, but also that I think It was a shit move on your part for not telling me all the details. I’m not doing anything else. I’m going to take my weekend starting tomorrow.”

He hung up with a resounding beep and put the phone onto a pool chair, leaning back on his hands and splashing his feet in the water. His door was opening not even a few moments later, he twisted around and offered a smile to the busboy who had brought up his dinner. He looked a little spooked, but Lance guessed that had to do with Kolivan’s hulking form behind him.

He ate his dinner feet still dipped in the pool, listening to the traffic. He yearned to talk to Keith. He has never wanted something more. He finally gave in to the temptation, reaching over for his phone and hitting call on Keith’s number before he could talk himself out of it. When Keith picks up he’s already talking, knocking all the air from Lance’s lungs. He’s asking if he’s okay. He can’t help the laugh that comes from the warm feeling building in his chest. Lance’s heart swells even as Keith calls him a dick in the most gentle tone. His cheeks burn as he admits that he was positive he had called the right person at the right time. He sat in silence as Keith called him perfect in his flaws. Mind, body, and heart all warring against each other. He did know one thing for sure though.

“I cannot fucking wait to see you again.” his voice is breathless, his stomach twirling with butterfly wings. He laughs a bit at the utter truth and doesn’t even care if Keith hangs up. 

“I can’t wait to see you either.” Keith’s voice is far quieter, bashful even, and what Lance would give to see pink spreading across those cheeks. Lance drags his foot in an arc through the water. Listening to Keith’s quiet breathing.

“I know tomorrow isn’t Friday like we agreed on bu-,”

“Yes.” Keith interrupts him. He breathes out shakily and Lance holds his breath. “Fuck sorry, but I meant yes, I would love to start tomorrow.” he pauses again. “ If that’s what you meant.”

Lance laughs. “Yes. That’s exactly what I meant.”

Keith breaths out in relief and when he speaks again Lance can hear the smile in his voice. “Okay. I have class tomorrow, but I can come get you at six? I know a few fun places to go after dark. O-or they’re fun to me.”

He’s laughing again and he sounds like a lovesick fool, and he should stop, but he doesn’t want to, and he doesn’t have to.

“Keith, I promise they will be perfect, and yes you can come get me at six. You could come get me at fucking three in the morning. I wouldn’t give a shit.”

Keith laughs now, an edge of disbelief to it. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Tomorrow, bye Keith.”

“Bye Lance.”

After he hung up Lance buried his face in a towel and screamed.


	9. Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached 2k!!! Thank You to everyone who's read this and commented and left kudos since day one, It means a lot!

“Shiro! Hey, hi, uh I was wondering if you had the extra helmet still?”

Shiro raises an eyebrow at him. He’s in his pajama pants, one hand stuffed in a Cheez-It box. His face is dusted with crumbs. He peers around Keith’s shoulder at where his bike is still humming by the curb.

“Why do you need it?”

“Keith twists his hands together, he hadn’t anticipated Shiro asking him why he needed it. Normally Shiro would be jumping with joy over the fact that he is actually considering safety. Keith looks over his shoulder at the bike, he can’t say he forgot his other one because it’s hanging on the handlebars. When he turns back to Shiro he nearly bangs their noses together by how close Shiro has gotten to him. His face is split in a shit-eating grin.

“Keith, are you going on a date?”

Keith crosses his arms over his chest and fights to keep his eyes on Shiro. 

“I don’t have to tell you anything when I know you’ve been watching the Backyardigans all afternoon, just because you didn’t have to go to work.”

Shiro keeps grinning, popping two Cheez-Its into his mouth. “You totally are. Holy shit Keith. Who are you and what did you do with my brother?”

Keith glares at him. “Don’t talk with your mouth full and exactly. I don’t go on dates. Therefore I just need the helmet. I also have the slightest suspicion you might have traded it.”

Shiro had a habit of doing that. Keith would come home and Shiro would show him something admittedly cool, and upon asking him where he got it, Shiro would explain with far too much enthusiasm that he had traded something of Keith’s for it. It had gone too far when Shiro traded Flower, Keith’s stuffed hippo, for a cd player. Their parents had tracked down the trader and begged for the ratty stuffed animal back. 

Shiro pouted at him, putting his box of Cheez-Its on his hip. “ I didn’t trade it. I still like going on rides with you.”

Keith could feel the seconds ticking away. He had only thought about getting a second helmet after he left home, doubling back to go get it from Shiro. Now he was wasting time arguing with his cheese stained _older_ brother.

“What’s it going to take for me to get _my_ property from you?” Keith huffed.

“Easy. Tell me why you need it.” Shiro said, smirk still intact.

Keith rolled his eyes as dramatically as he could. “I am not going on a date. I just need it in case Pidge needs a ride. We’ve been riding with one helmet.” Both the things he said weren’t lies. When Pidge did accept a ride from him, they had to deal with the one helmet problem, and no he wasn’t going on a date. He had stared at the ceiling for an embarrassing amount of time that night after Pidge had left, thinking that the day was going to be like a date. The place he planned on taking Lance was one of the places he considered a date hotspot. For him at least.

Shiro’s look of disappointment was comical. He eyed Keith up and down again before disappearing back into his house. It set Keith's anxiety spiraling and he looked down at his clothes. He’d spent at least an hour, which is the longest he has ever taken, that morning picking out something to wear. It was then that Keith realized he didn’t have a single shirt that was free from some stupid alien pun, or an embarrassing cutesy little animal. He had settled on a dusky purple shirt with a little hippo peeking out of the breast pocket. It didn’t say the word ‘fuck’ so he counted that as a win. He knew he was going to feel unfairly poor and underdressed no matter what he wore, especially with this shirt though. It had been a lucky find at Goodwill a couple of years ago. Maybe Keith should rethink some of his priorities.

Shiro was back now, handing him the helmet. His box of crackers was gone and he actually had a shirt on. Keith could still hear the undertones of the cartoon though.

“Thanks, Shiro.” he turned around before pausing and looking back at him. “You doing okay?”

Shiro looked slightly surprised and Keith winced. He should call more, or come visit more. Make sure Shiro eats actual food and stays hydrated.

“Yeah. I’m doing okay. It was actually a good day today.” 

Keith stepped back onto the porch and roped Shiro into a hug, wrinkling his nose. “You stink. Take a shower.” Shiro hits him and he laughs pulling away. He’s a little surprised at himself, initiating a hug, but he’d been off all day. Riding on the fear and excitement of seeing Lance again. 

“Okay, welp, I’m gonna go. See you later Shiro.” 

He secured the second helmet to his bike and then mounted it, waving one more time at Shiro before taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart. This is it he thinks to himself. He’s either going to ace this or bomb this. He’s decided that with the way the universe normally messes with his life, there is no in-between. He’s sweating, which is stupid. He drives around Lance’s hotel a sum total of three times until his clock reads six o’ five. He pulled up outside of the golden doors and waited, looking around for Lance to appear. 

His nerves are frayed by the time a shadow appears behind the doors. Keith sits up, biting his lip as the automatic doors open. Lance walks out hesitantly until he sees Keith. His face lights up like spring and he hurries towards him. Keith takes his helmet off as he draws nearer.

“Hi,” Lance says breathlessly tugging at the bottom of his shirt and Keith is happier then he should be over the fact that it’s a t-shirt. He still looks about a thousand times better then Keith does. Dark was jeans that fit him to perfection, white tennis shoes that Keith doesn’t know the brand off. His hair is slightly tousled like he had been tugging on it, his freckles are uncovered.

“Hi.” Keith murmurs back smiling fully at him. They stare at each other long enough that it should be awkward. It isn’t really though. Keith remembers somewhere along his internal monologue about the depths of Lance's eyes, that they do in fact have plans for the evening. He twists around to get the extra helmet and hands it shyly to Lance who takes it just as shyly.

“Do you remember where to ride?” Keith asks and Lance puts on the helmet. Lance nods and hesitates only slightly before he slides in behind Keith. He doesn’t hesitate this time when he wraps his arms tight around Keith’s waist pressing himself against Keith’s back.

“Hi.” 

Keith laughs and shivers as Lance says it against his neck. “You said that already.”

Lance nods. “ I know. I don’t know why I said it again. I’m just so glad you came.”

“I said I would.”

Lance didn’t respond, snuggling deeper into Keith’s back and he takes that as his cue to go. He revs his engine and pulls away from the curb. He grins as Lance’s arms tighten around him squeezing almost too tightly. He takes the long way to the small out of the way, admittedly rundown bowling alley. He wouldn’t consider it a hidden treasure of L.A. and it definitely wasn’t Highland or even Hollywood. It was just a local bowling alley. He hoped that Lance wouldn’t be disappointed. He had gone with Shiro the first month he had been in L.A. and if it did have anything going for it, it was the surprisingly amazing pizza. The large white letters that spelled out the word ‘Gutters’ were flickering. Keith was relieved to see that there weren’t very many cars in the parking lot as he pulled in. The fewer people the better. He wasn’t sure what would happen if Lance was recognized, and the guy wasn’t really being conspicuous.

Lance untangled his arms from Keith’s waist once the bike was stable, sliding off and taking off his helmet. Keith watches his face as subtly as he can, taking his helmet and securing both of them. He panics slightly as his hands no longer have anything to do. He turns to Lance, waiting for blatant disgust or poorly hidden disappointment. Lance’s bottom lip is caught between his teeth as he looks up at the flickering letters. His eyes are sparkling and Keith isn’t sure what to do with that.

“So, uh, this isn’t exactly a tourist place? But it’s fun, and they have good pizza and stuff.” he trails off lamely regretting opening his mouth as lance turns to face him.

“Keith. This is perfect. Come on!” Then he’s running towards the door and Keith scrambles to catch up with him. He catches his arm before they get into the building.

“What about people recognizing you?” he searches Lance’s face. He’s still grinning and he shrugs as if it isn’t a big deal, and sure. If it isn’t for him then it isn’t for Keith.

“Well, I told myself when I planned on doing this that I didn’t give a shit if I’m recognized. Now come on Keith.”

He is recognized almost instantly. The girl behind the desk had been writing hurried sloppy notes out of a chemistry book when they walked up. She looked up annoyed before her eyes widened and her mouth opened wide enough that her blue gum fell out. She scrambled to come over to them.

“Um, can I get a size twelve and a half?” Keith gaped at Lance casting a glance down at his feet. They didn’t look that big. Maybe his were just small. The girl nodded, her face was bright red.

“You are um, Lance McClain right?” 

“Yuppers, that’s me.”

She looks like she might pass out and Keith grimaces.

“Holy shit! Oh my god! Can I have a picture with you?”

Lance bites his lip and for the first time, Keith wonders if Lance left without telling anyone.

“Tell you what, I’ll sign something for you but I’m not really up to photos tonight. Sorry about that.”

The girl scrambled back to her stuff grabbing her phone and a sharpie. She handed them over to Lance who signed her phone in a flourish. It looked nothing like the way he had sighed Keith’s hand. In fact, the words were still kind of there. He clenched his fist tracing over the loop of Lance’s L with the pads of his fingers. The girl squealed down at her phone before getting Lance his shoes.

“How much will that be?” Lance asks, reaching into his back pocket. Keith steps in here, nudging Lance out of the way. The girl looked like he had just insulted her entire family in front of her.

“Hey, can I get a size,” his eyes scan the options. There's a faded nine and a half sticker on an empty rake. The highest is a ten and a half. He sighs, “ A size ten and a half if you don’t mind, and how much will it be for,” he pauses yet again to glance at Lance, “ How much do you want to play?”  
“How long does it take to eat one of these pizzas? Which I’m paying for by the way.”

Keith doesn’t fight him on that, “ Four games if you don’t mind.”

The girl is gawking at him, sliding the shoes across the counter to him and accepting the money. He smiles at her awkwardly before joining Lance at the bar. He’s looking over the menu and Keith swallows nervously at the extensive beer menu.

“Are you going to get anything to drink?” he asks, handing him his shoes. Lance nods eyes still on the menu. “Sprite and I’m thinking regular old pepperoni. What do you think?” Lance asks him, pointing out the pizza. Keith nods.

“Sounds good, but it has to be stuffed crust and garlic knots.” Keith takes the menu from him and flips to the back where sides are. He points then out and Lance lights up again. If he keeps acting like that Keith is going to do something stupid like kiss him or call him beautiful.

“I love garlic knots. I haven’t had them in so long.” Keith is taken aback by the wistful gentleness of his voice. 

“Well, then get them. I like them a lot too.”

Lance pays for the food but Keith orders it. Sending Lance to the lane to put on his shoes and pick out his balls. It’s weird but not weird at the same time. The guy behind the counter keeps looking over Keith’s shoulder at Lance. He gets their drinks, Sprite for Lance, and cream soda for him.

Lance has a purple ball picked out and is lacing up his shoes. He grins up at Keith taking the offered drink. Keith eyes his shoes.

“Those look like three sizes too big. Do you want to go get a different pair?”

Lance shook his head, “ Nah. They didn’t have my size and I’m scared that girl will try to flash me.”

“Ew,” Keith says slipping off his own shoes and slipping into the ugly, stiff,dual-colored shoes. Lance barks a laugh and he looks up confused. “What?”

“ Does that really sound that bad to you?”

Keith gives him the most deadpan look he could muster, it was hard when Lance was smiling at him like that. 

“Yes. I mean she’s a stranger, and a girl.” he realizes how much of a douchebag that made him sound like. “Not that I think girls are awful, or that she isn’t pretty I mean she is but I just,” he stops, burying his head in his hands. His ears are burning, and Lance is laughing at him.

“Keith. Keith, look at me.” Lance laughs, he gets up and sits down next to him on the couch. He grips Keith’s wrists and pries them away from his face. “Keith it’s fine. I know you weren’t meaning anything rude by it.”

Keith looks up at him, and fuck, they’re close. Lance is still laughing at him.

“It’s okay, I promise. You can’t always be elegant in every situation.”

Keith frowns at Lance. “You sound like every aunt in every BBC show ever.”

They do eventually get off the short couch to actually bowl. Keith’s ball is a sickly yellow color, but he bowls about fifty times better than Lance. 

“Lance, Lance this is called cheating!” he’s laughing so hard he can hardly talk as he drags Lance, who is clutching onto his ankle, all the way up to the foul line. “Lance! Oh my god! We’re gonna get in trouble.”

Lance pouts up at him but lets him go, crossing his arms and legs, glaring as Keith hits yet another strike. Lance even goes as far as using Keith’s ball.

“I’m positive I just got a faulty ball.”

After the third game, they took a break. Sitting at the table eating the pizza. Keith had more than was absolutely necessary and Lance had less than absolutely necessary. The garlic knots though were mostly eaten by Lance, and Keith lets him. 

“So,” Lance says twirling a pizza crust in marinara sauce. “ I hope I’m not crossing any boundaries, but I would love to know more about you.”

Keith swallows his own crust. What was he supposed to say? 

“You’re probably going to be seriously disappointed,” he said. His voice was weak and he inwardly cringed at himself. Lance shrugged.

“I mean I doubt that, and hey as you said, there isn’t anything wrong with flaws. If and when you ever ask me about my life, you’re probably gonna be disappointed as well.”

The conversation was turning far more intimate than he thought it was going to. He didn’t mind, at all, if anything it was making his heart tremble.

“Okay well. I grew up in New Mexico.”

“That explains the alien shirts,” Lance says with a grin.

“Uh yeah I guess. I actually grew up on the opposite side of the state from Roswell. Up in the north where it snowed all winter and you only had to drive a few miles to get into the national forest. My dad was a firefighter up there, and he got killed one summer when a tree fell on him, or that's what they told me anyway. And before you say anything, it’s fine. It really is.”

Keith twists his hands in his lap averting his eyes from Lance’s face. “ Uh, my mom kinda went off the deep end after that, and I lived around with people for, pff, a long time. She finally couldn’t go it anymore and she put me up for adoption. Which I’m grateful for in the long run.” he hates talking about this stuff and he doesn’t want his sob story of a life to ruin the atmosphere that had surrounded the night so far.

“Anyway, I got adopted by the Shirogan’es when I was ten and I've lived with them since then. Now I’m here.”

Lance nods, considering him. Keith doesn’t know what he sees now, but he hopes it isn’t some poor orphan boy, whose mother had to give him up.

“What are you majoring in?” Lance asks, biting into the last garlic knot.

Keith blows out a raspberry. “Well I want a career in journalism, that’s why I was interning at the studio.” they both pause to cringe. “ I have a real passion for writing. I actually,” he freezes. He was just about to tell Lance about his book. That thought alone is scary. He rushes to fill in the blank he left. “ Actually spent the summer before college writing for local papers.”

Lance nods and Keith sweats. Talking this much is making him nervous. He doesn’t really want to talk about it anymore. He’s failing his classes and his major doesn’t feel like it used to. This conversation had brought that fact out of the woodwork completely.

“Soooo, why hippos?”

They end up getting asked very passive-aggressively to leave. It makes sense Keith thinks, it’s past nine and the open sign is off. Keith didn’t want to leave though. They played more games after their first four, and on the last three it dissolved into, how much can you mess up the others' turn. They were still laughing as they walked out. Keith chewed his lip all the way back to his bike. He needed something to do to prolong their time together.

“Hey, I know it’s late but,-”

“Yes,” Lance says without hesitation.

Keith grins at him. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

Lance shrugs, but his cheeks are tinted a pretty pink color. “I don’t care, but I hope you were planning on offering me dessert.”

They end up getting ice cream, sitting on a bench and looking at the glowing city. They sat in silence, enjoying the warm breeze and quiet ambiance.

“Thank you, Keith. Again.” Lance’s voice is quiet, barely penetrating the silence around them. Keith turns to him, finding Lance’s eyes already on him.

“You’re welcome, but again, you never have to thank me for things like this. I promise.”

Lance’s cheeks flare up again and his eyes dart from his ice cream back to Keith’s face. “You, uh, you have a little.” Lance motioned lamely to his own face in the general area of his upper lip. Keith runs his fingers along his own trying to find the sticky spot. Lance laughs at him, but it’s different from the shoulder shaking, ab forming laughter from earlier. He reaches forward, brushing cotton soft fingers over Keith’s face.

“There. I got it.” his hand doesn’t move, and he meets Keith’s eyes, and they’re just that much closer. “What are you thinking about?” Lance’s lips barely move with the words.

“I’m thinking I want to kiss you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is life if one does not include the ice cream on face cliche???


	10. Lance

Funny, Lance muses because he was thinking the same exact thing. Keith's eyes shine under the light of the lamp they’re sitting under. Lance’s hand is still on his face, and he wants to kiss him. So bad.

“Then do it.” he feels his lips drag across themselves as they barely move to form the words. Keith’s eyelashes flutter, and they’re so long, his eyes are so perfect. He kisses him then. It’s soft and sweet and hesitant, Lance can’t help the pathetic noise that tears from his throat at the gentle touch. He needs more, he needs to feel Keith fully. He needs to know if they slot together as well as they seem to. His ice cream slips from his hand, a small detail as he digs his hand into Keith’s hair, pulling him closer. It gets a rough noise coming out of Keith’s throat and Lance’s stomach flips at it.

The reality of what they were doing filtered into Lance’s consciousness. He was kissing Keith on a bench in the middle of midnight L.A. It excites him and worries him at the same time. He’s never felt like this before. It’s like Keith was made for him, he fit him perfectly. The way their lips slotted, the way their heartbeats sync even as both are beating quickly. That being said, Lance was Lance. Lance was a mess, constantly. He was working constantly, and Keith didn’t seem like the type of person who would appreciate being plastered across the covers of gossip magazines. That would be his life because Lance can’t bear the thought of not telling people that Keith was his. Lance was getting ahead of himself.

Lance pulls away, just barely though, enough to see Keith’s eyes flutter open. He smiles at him, his lips wavering. Keith smiles back even as his eyes change again. They express so much and Lance wants to learn to read all of the ways they change what they all mean.

“We, we shouldn’t have done that,” he whispers, fingers still buried in Keith’s dark hair, and he isn’t moving away.

“I know,” Keith says. “But fuck, I don’t really care.”

Lance laughs softly at him. Before his smile falters and his fingers wander over the skin of Keith’s neck. Then they’re kissing again, and Lance can’t get enough. He pushes Keith back against the cold steel of the bench. Keith’s cheeks are pink, and his kiss puffed lips are parted gently. When Lance pulls away from him. 

“You’re fucking beautiful Keith.” Lance can’t help himself, pressing kisses all over Keith’s face, dipping down to his neck to press his lips over his pulse point. He breaths in Keith’s scent, he smells like sandalwood and something else sharp that Lance can’t name, pine maybe. It’s good whatever it is. He presses a hotter wetter kiss against the underside of Keith’s jaw relishing in the shiver that wracks Keith’s body and the hitch in his breath. Lance pulls away from him to look back at his face.

Keith’s eyes drop from his almost immediately looking off to the side. Lance cups his face and turns his eyes back to him. 

“Keith, what’s wrong?” The worry that he went too far is sitting heavy and gross in Lance’s chest. Keith’s eyes flickered to his before flickering away.

“You called me beautiful, which I don’t understand because you look like a fucking Greek god.”

Lance laughs and Keith’s eyes return to his completely now. “Keith, have you seen yourself?”

Keith raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, and half the time I look like I’m dying. YOu literally have your own glow.”

“Thank you,” Lance says softly, “but Keith, you really are pretty. So so pretty.” he presses a kiss to Keith’s burning cheeks. He’s kissing Keith like a lover, and he wonders if Keith feels the same, if he feels how they fit together perfectly.

“I think you might need glasses. I mean look at my shirt.” Keith gestures vaguely at his shirt, which Lance had fallen in love with the minute he saw it.

“I love your shirt, and no, I have 20/20 vision.” he wiggled his eyebrows, and Keith snorted pushing his face away. Lance laughed but moved away to allow Keith to right himself on the bench. He scooted right back over to Lance once he did though, tucking himself against Lance’s side.

“So what happens now?” Keith asks. His voice is quiet enough that Lance thinks he didn’t want to ask the question. Lance didn’t want to think about it. There was a lot at stake if he and Keith tried to become something. The media would be all over it and Keith would be merchandised. It made Lance sick just thinking about it, so he shrugs.

“I think that’s something to talk about after the weekend.” It was a selfish thing to say and he knew it was. Keith was probably feeling the trepidation that came from this. Keith looks at him, chewing on his bottom lip, but then he lays his head against Lance’s shoulder and looks out over the glowing city.

“Okay. I have some places that are actually considered touristy. I was thinking that maybe I’d take you to the zoo. Then you can see the grandeur of hippos for yourself.”

“I’ve seen a hippo before Keith.”

Keith looked at him skeptically. “Then how can you even ask why I like them so much?”

Lance kisses him instead of answering. Kieth was pouting when he pulled away. “You can’t do that.”

“Just did babe.”

Keith sputtered looking aghast turning to look down the road away from Lance. Lance was laughing again he couldn’t remember when he had last laughed so hard.

“Keith?” he poked his side and got no response. “Keeeiiith, are you flustered? Do you not like being called babe?” Keith squeaked and Lance cooed at him. “ How about sweetheart then? Or baby” Keith is peeking at him now, his face twisted into an expression Lance can’t read. 

“How about honey? No, I don’t think honey suits you. Oh, darling! I like that one.” 

“Lance, stop.” Keith sounds sheepish and Lance grins. 

“I will not stop until I find the perfect pet name for you.” Keith groaned and buried his head in his hands. He does that a lot Lance thinks, and he probably should not find it as endearing as he does.

“Why do I like you again?”

Lance placed a hand on his chest in mock amazement. “You like me?”

“Lance. My tongue was literally in your throat like ten minutes ago. I definitely like you. More than I probably should actually.'' His voice is so deadpan that Lance has to laugh. It brings a shy smile back to Keith’s face.

“I like you to Keith, just for the record, and I really loved this. The bowling, the making out was okay.” he winks at Keith. Who actually looks more worried then Lance thought he would.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. It was either this or ice skating which I suck at.”

“Damn it, we should have gone ice skating.”

“Why? I just said I suck at it. You would have had to scrape my bloody remains off the ice.”

Lance grimaces at the mental image that concocts. “Well, the thing is, I can skate, fucking well. I took professional lessons with my ballet when I was a kid.”

“You’re from Cuba right?” Keith asks and Lance debates on whether or not to get into this conversation. He supposes he owes it to Keith. He did tell Lance about his life, and they had just sucked face.

“Yeah, but we moved to Miami not long after I was born. Mama actually was considering leaving me in Cuba since I was so young when we decided to move. Glad she didn’t.”

Keith nods. “So, does acting run in the family? I know a lot of times that happens.”Lance grimaces a little bit and Keith notices. “ If it’s an uncomfortable conversation for you we can go back to talking about ice skating.”

Lance waves him away. “No, it’s not really. I was just wondering what you have read about my family.” 

Keith shrugs. “Not much. I looked you up after stumbling upon  _ Life of a Lifeguard,  _ Lance the fuck was that movie? Anyways. I read that you had a large family, that you are the middle child, and that you were from Cuba, that’s about it.”

“Okay first off, let's never speak of that movie again, and that’s vague.” Lance laughs. Keith nods.

“I thought so too, but hey I mean I wouldn’t want my family plastered all over the internet.”

Lance hums in agreement. “Anyways my sister Veronica is the only one who does something similar to me, she voices acts, which is fucking awesome. She got into it like a year after my first big role. I guess being my sibling helped her or something.”

“So what got you into acting?”

Lance thinks back to those nights his mom would sit with her head buried in her hands at the kitchen table, bills spread out around her. Bills she couldn’t pay. 

“Well I actually went looking for a good-paying job around the area and a modeling agency found me. So actually my first “gig” was me modeling for a stupid summer clothing line. It paid well and that’s what I was looking for. I guess I caught the attention of important people.”

“Did you want to be an actor?”

“Well, it was one of those dream jobs. It was something I didn’t think I would ever actually do. I got to though so I guess I should be grateful, and it’s been amazing, but.”

“But sometimes that doesn’t matter. Sometimes you are selfish and wish for something else. I know how that feels. You are an amazing actor Lance, but something tells me that you want to do something else. So what is it?”

Lance wants to kiss him again. Kiss him in all his honest beautiful glory. “I wanted to be a pediatrician. Not just I guess, I wanted to open my own clinic for kids that anyone can afford. I lived without health insurance from the time I was fifteen to the time I left for Hollywood. Mama’s doing better but me and my siblings never went to the doctor unless absolutely necessary. I don’t want a mother or father to have to choose between eating for a month or taking their baby for a check-up.”

He glances at Keith from the corner of his eye. Keith has a small smile on his face and it reads nothing but fond.

“What?” Lance asked, feeling sheepish for confessing to his dream. Keith cups his face and presses a soft kiss to his nose.

“I think that you would make a great pediatrician.”

Lance puts his hand over Keith’s and shrugs. “I think I might have missed my chance. It takes a lot of schools,and I’m not retiring anytime soon. I signed a four-year contract with Marvel last month. It really isn’t something that I can do.”

“Did you ever go to college?” Keith asks. Lance shakes his head. He could go back now, he was only twenty-one, but he never had before.

“I wasn’t going to. I’m not good at school. Academically I do fine, but people and the social parts aren’t really my forte. I was a mess in high school, got suspended a lot, got into fights, and when I turned sixteen I dropped out for a semester. Only because I could.”

Lance twists the ends of Keith's hair. There are more split ends then Lance has ever seen, and his stupid heart even finds that cute. “Why’d you go then?”

Keith bites his lip. “I don’t know sometimes. I hate disappointing people, and for a while, before I finally went to therapy and got a hold of myself, that’s all I did. So I thought, Shiro’s worked hard to get me where I am, the least I can do is go to college. The experience was attractive too.” Keith chuckles, his thumb running over and over Lance’s fingers. His hand is resting in Keith’s lap. “ I like stupid cliches. Like Paris is on my bucket list, just so I can sit at one of those cafes in view of the Eiffel Tower and eat a croissant. Sometimes I think it’s a little unhealthy.”

“Paris is great.” Keith looks up at him, those pretty lips parting again.

“You’ve been?”

Lance nods, “Yeah. It really does live up to all the hype. At least in my opinion. I’d like to go back.” there was an unsaid something that neither of them voice.

Keith yawns hugely, he looks so ashamed of himself afterward that Lance squeezes him.

“S-sorry. I guess I’m tired.” Keith ducks his head and Lance laughs softly digging his phone out of his pocket. His bodyguards haven’t noticed that he’s gone yet, but it’s nearing one so he figures Keith’s tiredness is expected.

“We should probably head back.” neither of them move, except to lean closer to one another. Then Keith is sighing and standing looking down at the mess of ice cream on the ground, he holds out a hand for Lance. They walk back to the bike with their hands intertwined, and Lance presses himself as close to Keith as he can on the ride back. The golden glow of the hotel is an eyesore, Lance doesn’t want to go back up to his hotel room. So empty and big.

He doesn’t kiss Keith after he gets off of the bike, and Keith keeps his helmet on, the paranoia of people finding out about Keith is settling into Lance’s chest. The girl at the bowling alley had definitely said something by now, and he could only hope that no creepy paparazzi were watching him and Keith after then left. He squeezes Keith’s hand, receiving a squeeze in return. Keith waited until Lance was in the building before leaving, just like last time.

An hour later Lance is still awake. His lips tingle from Keith’s kisses and his heart still is thrilling over him. The word  _ love _ was becoming scarily close to his feelings for Keith. He picks up his phone.

**_Me:_ **

_ How about sweetcheeks??? _

**_Keith <3:_ **

_ Ew. That’s awful _

Lance grins.

**_Me:_ **

_ Okay how about honey bunny _

**_Keith <3:_ **

_ No _

**_Me:_ **

_ Sweetie pie _

**_Keith <3:_ **

_ Now you sound like a pageant mom, also go to sleep. I’m coming to get you for breakfast. _

Lance sighs like a moron, rolling over to hug his pillow.

**_Me:_ **

_ I’m honestly so offended you would compare me to those abusive witches. And okay, i will. Can’t wait for tomorrow. _

**_Keith <3:_ **

_ Goodnight lance _

**_Me:_ **

_ Night Keith, and thank you for tonight again _

**_Keith <3:_ **

_ Of course _


	11. Keith

Driving through early morning L.A. with Lance snuggled against his back was something that Keith hoped to do many more times. They had met up at six, Keith being a little confused when lance told him to meet in a different location than the normal curbside pick up they had been doing. Lance had pulled Keith’s helmet off in the shelter of bush and kissed him with all he was worth. 

“There were paparazzi outside earlier.” is all he said in explanation before taking his helmet and sliding onto the bike. Keith stood there like an idiot, catching his breath from the kiss. Lance grinned at him. “You coming? I thought you promised me breakfast?” Keith smirked and put his own helmet on, sliding onto the bike.

They chose a little bakery that offered dining. Lance was once again bouncing on his toes at the most mundane things, making Keith prouder then it should. He takes a chance and grabs Lance’s hand. Lance lets him, going as far as to squeeze it. They walked in hands twined. The bakery smelled warm and bright even though the sun had yet to fully rise. Lance let go of his hand in favor of looking at the arrangements of pastries. Keith stuck his hand in the pockets of his jacket walking to the counter and looking up at the drink menu, they mostly served hot drinks and Keith set his eye on the tea options. Lance wandered over to him eventually. Keith looked over at him, eyebrows lifted in surprise as Lance stuck his hand into one of Keith's pockets to lace their fingers together. Lance wasn’t looking at him, but Keith could see the small smile on his lips and the red tinting his ears. Keith smiled to himself, looking back up again.

The lady that comes out of the back smiles at them, her eyes crinkling at the corners. Her arms are dusted with flour up to her elbows. Lance gins pulling Keith up to the counter.

“Good morning!” he sounds excited and Keith stays quiet, watching him. “Do you make all of these fresh?” he gestures at the cases of pastries.

“Yes, we make everything fresh. You two are here at the perfect time. Everything out right now hasn’t been out for an hour yet.” she sends them a wink leaning on the counter and gesturing for Lance to meet her halfway. “That’s our secret. Kind of an early bird gets the worm type of situation.”

It wasn’t a secret at all, it was silly and quirky, but Keith could tell that Lance appreciated the gesture. She was standing straight now, clapping her hands so that the four dusted down onto the floor. “So, what can I get for you two?”

Keith ends up with an apple pastry and a cup of boiling tea, that he still sipped on, even as it burned his tongue. Lance picked an almond croissant and hot chocolate. They ended up splitting the pastries, each getting half of the others.

“You like places like this don’t you?” Lance asked peering up through the cocoa scented steam that wafted from his drink.

“Yeah. I feel like in places like this you can almost forget that you're in L.A.” Keith says, clumsily spilling crumbs down his front from the flaking pastry he was holding too tightly. Lance reached across and brushed them away, before going back to his own small breakfast. It was so natural. It startled Keith, he still wasn’t sure what they were. What Lance wanted them to be.

“You don’t like L.A. do you?”

“I mean, do you?”

Lance laughed softly, “Touche. So what do you have planned for me today?”

Keith had done far too much research and had to lie far too many times to find even a few places worthy of taking Lance. He was bad at lying and found it hard so if Shiro and Pidge were suspicions it was for good reason.

“Well, you mentioned something about art galleries so I found a few local ones. Nothing big but I think you might like them. Then I found out this morning that there is a small little fair thing opening downtown. Not sure what that’ll be like but I thought you’d appreciate it, and-” he pauses glancing up at Lance. He’s been oddly quiet. He was staring at Keith, cupping his cheek in one hand. Watching Keith with doe-eyed dopeyness. Keith swallows. “What?”

Lance is lunging across the table then. Cupping Keith’s cheeks, smooshing them uncomfortably. “What fucking color are your eyes?” 

Keith feels his face light up in a blush. He wraps his fingers around Lance’s wrists. “Did you get any of what I just said?”

Lance pressed his cheeks even closer. “They’re so pretty. I love them.”

Keith sighed and let Lance manhandle his face. Pressing his cheeks and petting over his eyebrows.

“I have never seen eyes like yours, Keith. Are they contacts?”

“Do I look like the type of person who would wear contacts unless I had too?”

They leave an hour later after a car pulls up outside. Lance makes sure to say goodbye to the lady. She whispers something to him that Keith can’t hear, but Lance beams and practically skips to him afterward. Keith doesn’t ask about it. 

He finds out that Lance is not the best person to walk through an art gallery with, Keith treats art galleries like libraries, whispering about the paintings even if there is no need to. Lance bounds through the sage scented rooms exclaiming about every single piece of art. It still boggles Keith that Lance is so enamored with everything that is going on. They go to three small galleries, Keith taking a small pamphlet from each host who looks at him questioningly as Lance bounds past them.

“I love this painting,” Keith says pausing with Lance once he’s caught up with him. It's small but it reminds him savagely of the ranches his dad used to work at when fire season was down and money got tight. Lance considers it.

“I like it too. It reminds me of some fairy tale.” he turns keen blue eyes on Keith. “I’m guessing it’s the kind of place where you would love to live, isn’t it?”

Keith shrugs intertwining their fingers. “Places like that are quiet. I like the quiet.”Lance’s eyebrows furrow for the briefest second. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m loud. Like really loud. Even when I shouldn’t be.”

Ah. So he had noticed Keith’s habit of whispering. Keith smiles at him raising Lance's hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Yeah you are.” and then moves on along the line of paintings dragging a sputtering Lance behind him.

The little market is a small walk from the galleries, so Keith left his bike and they opted to walk. Lance looked at his phone and grimaced.

“What’s up?” Keith asks, bumping his shoulder. Lance sighed, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

“My agent is not being the best right now. I don't think she understands that I’m a person who gets tired. And I mean I am just acting, but fuck, sometimes I need a break.”

Keith squeezes his hand. “Don’t know why you think that your job is less or shouldn’t make you tired, someone told you something wrong. Any job is fucking exhausting at times. Even if you love it. Take my brother, for example, he loves his job but he struggles with it. There isn’t any job that should be considered less.”

“Fuck Keith.”

They leave it at that. Keith worries that he had said something wrong as Lance doesn’t say anything until he sees a man with a parrot sitting on the steps of a pavilion. Lance let go of Keith’s hand walking towards the man with a one focus determination. The man grinned at him, it was gap-toothed and Keith felt a shameful spike of protectiveness sear through his chest. Lance leaned closer cooing at the bird.

“ ‘e can talk ya know?” the man slurred. Lance’s eyes widened.

“Really?”

The old man licked his lips and lifted the bird from his shoulder to his hand.

“Kitty says meow.” the man said to the bird, stroking a finger down its wing. The bird cocked its head.

_ “ Kitty says meow.” _

Keith’s mouth fell open. He felt stupid about it but the bird spoke clearer then he did. The old man slipped the bird some kind of treat but then rolled his eyes. Fingers still tracing over the bird's wing.

“No Kitty, say  _ meow.” _

The bird made a chortling sound that was definitely laughter. It turns intelligent eyes on Lance and meows like a cat.

“He’s amazing!” Lance says. The man's eyes twinkle.

“You can tell ‘im something if ya want.”

“Really?” Lance asks looking at the man, “anything?”

“Long as you say  _ Kitty  _ before, and your expectations ain’t that high.”

Lance opens his mouth then closes it again. He looks over his shoulder at Keith helplessly. Keith shrugs. He’s enjoying watching Lance interact with the bird, and he had no idea what to have it say either.

“Kitty, say,  _ Lance, _ ” Lance says, catching his lip between his teeth. The bird fluffs up, the feathers on its head rising.

_ “Lance.”  _

Lance was whirling around to look at him again. “Keith! Oh my god!”

Keith laughs stepping closer finally. The old man beams up at them again, feeding his bird another treat. 

“Keith you have to try!” Lance tugs on the hem of his shirt, blue eyes large. Keith laughs and bats him gently away. He looks at the man for permission, when he gets a nod of approval he leans down so he and the bird are face to face. Beady yellow eyes locked with his own. He catches himself turning his head as the bird does.

“Kitty, say  _ Keith.” _

The bird doesn’t fluff up like he did for Lance, he shuffles on the man's hand a few steps and snaps his beak.

_ “Kitty say, Kitty.” _

The bird chortled and Keith straightened, feeling a little disappointed. Lance’s laughter quickly replaced that though.

As they move on after Lance thanks the man for showing them his bird, Keith notices a dirty white bucket that has seen better days, resting a few feet from the man's ruddy shoes. The smallest bill he had in his wallet is a twenty. He drops it in, then takes Lance’s hand and they move into the small arrangement of tents.

Keith listens to Lance babbling endlessly about the parrot.

“I should have asked him where he originated from. There were people like that back home but their birds were never that sassy!”

Keith chuckles. The bird did have some sass. 

Keith realizes that they haven’t really stumbled upon a farmers market like he thought they had. The tents were full of homemade jewelry and one woman was even selling crystal wands. It wasn’t Keith's cup of tea but Lance seemed enthralled. Keith did have to admit that some of the vibes coming from the vendors reminded him of the days in the spring and summer when he and his dad would go up to Taos for the art festival. The sage scents and copper jewelry reminded him bittersweetly of his mom. 

“Keith! Keith, oh my god! Come here!” Keith set down the item he was looking at as he heard Lance’s call. He tried not to panic immediately. They had been lucky so far, but someone was bound to recognize Lance at some point. He weaves through the tents until he sees Lance waving at him from the entrance of a tent. His wrist is grabbed as he gets close enough and an incense smelling thing is shoved in his face.

“Keith! It’s a hippo!” Lance exclaims. Keith leans back so he can look at the thing. It is unfairly cute and he finds himself reaching for it. Lance lets go of his wrist so he can hold it properly. He wouldn’t say that it’s soft. More thick as if it was made out of old denim. He loves it almost immediately. It’s big eyes peer right into his soul and melts his heart.

“It’s cute isn’t it?” Lance asks, smiling with all the gentleness in the world. Keith nods not taking his eyes away from it. Lance pats it patchwork bum. “Well, I’m going to get it for you.” 

He plucks it from Keith’s hands and ducks back into the tent. Keith sputters and grabs the back of his shirt. “Lance wait, you don’t have to do that.”

A perfect eyebrow climbs up almost to Lance’s hairline. “Do you want it?”

“Well I mean yeah,” Keith says exasperated.

“But you won’t get it for yourself correct?”

“Yeah, so you shouldn’t ha-” there was a finger on his lips.

“I want to Keith. Let me get you something.” Keith looks up at Lance’s pleading eyes. Large and round and oh so blue. “Please? You and hippos are literally the cutest thing.”

“But I already have a plush hippo.” it’s pathetic and he isn’t sure why he’s fighting Lance so hard on this. He wants the plushie and Lance buying it for him is doing weird things to his stomach, yet it still makes him anxious for Lance to buy him something.

It does the opposite of turning Lance off from the idea. “Well, I bet it’s lonely.” Then he’s slipping out of Keith’s grip and walking over to the lady who’d been scowling at them during their stupid debate. Keith stands helplessly at the front of the tent, letting the sun burn into his back. Helpless to stop the purchase, and helpless to stop the way his heart stumbles over and over itself in a terrifying rhythm that spells out  _ love. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. Sorry about that. More coming soon though. Does this even have a plot anymore? Or is this all just fluff? I haven't the slightest idea. I guess we shall see if anything of substance will happen to our boys.


	12. Lance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~SPICY WARNING~  
> It ain't bad, but it's there. No actual smut, but still I feel the need to warn you guys.

Lance is almost positive he messed up with the hippo. Not sure how, and not sure why. But Keith is still just standing in the opening of the tent. Lance tries to ignore it, for now, smiling at the woman who looks tired of the heat and his bullshit. The hippo was more expensive than it should have been, but it was homemade and it wasn’t a burden on Lance at all. He returns somewhat hesitant to Keith whose eyes are downcast and ears pink. Lance stands there awkwardly before handing the recycled bag to Keith who took it without a word. Lance is close to panic when Keith slips his hand into Lance’s twining their fingers together.

They walk around the tents for another hour or so, the sun settling in the center of the sky by the time Keith murmurs something about a taco truck. He sits Lance down on a shaded bench promising to get something he’d like before walking away to the truck. Lance sighs, running a hand up through his hair, once again relieved that he had forgone any type of make for the day. It would be a disaster by now. His phone vibrates and he pulls it out with a quite _fuck._ It’s Ryan, checking in on him. He had to tell them that he was going out. He said with friends and they bought it, he just had to confirm that he wasn’t dead every hour or so. He shoots him off a quick confirmation and then snaps a picture of the sunlight dappled sidewalk. Posting it on Instagram as fast as humanly possible.

He sighed looking up at Keith who was leaning against the side of the bright orange truck waiting for the order. He was most definitely acting differently after Lance got him the plush. It was odd to see. He was so used to Keith saying what he was thinking. Maybe he should cut Keith some slack, he’s literally spending his time traipsing L.A. on his weekend with a celebrity who is too selfish to face his problems and instead runs. Lance groans and slips his phone back into his pocket looking back up and flinching back as Keith is marching towards him with a look of determination on his face and two baskets filled with tacos. He puts them onto the bench with little grace and then cups Lance's face and kisses him hard on the mouth.

He pulls away, leaning his forehead against Lance’s. He’s panting a little and his cheeks are cherry red.

“Thank you for the hippo, Lance. I’m not mad, I just am not good with people getting me stuff, I guess.”

He moves away from Lance and he mourns the loss. Keith pushes a basket into his hands and Lance is assaulted with the life bringing scent of fresh-made salsa. It sits right on top. Chopped tomatoes, onions, and cilantro. 

“These are literally bomb,” Keith says when he looks over. Half of his taco is gone and there’s lettuce trailing down his shirt. It falls over the middle finger of the alien who is flipping the bird to the world without shame. Lance smiles and looks down at his. The greens and reds and fresh smells mixed with the spicy smell of grilled meat is tempting. It’s large though and the calories would probably make his trainer flip out. Maybe he could eat half, but Keith had paid for it.

“The kiss was okay right?”

Lance looked up at Keith a little dumbfounded at his question. Had he not made it clear that he was more than okay with kissing after he kissed Keith this morning?

“Yeah. Yeah, it was fine. More than okay in fact.”

Keith nods resolutely, before smiling at Lance and looking down at the untouched taco.

“Eat as much as you’re comfortable with.”

The rest of the afternoon is spent avoiding over populated areas and taking in the small charm of forgotten local shops. Keith stops midstep, his hippo swinging in the bag that's looped around his arm. Lance’s arm is yanked and he turns around to see what’s wrong. Keith has his face pressed up against the glass of a window, probably closer then it should be. 

“What’s wrong?” Lance asks. Keith looks over at him grinning.

“It’s a Christmas shop.” he lets go of Lance’s hand and speed walks through the door, the bells above it letting out a soft chime. Lance follows him realizing what had Keith so excited only after he steps over the threshold.

The air smells like pine and cloves. Christmas carols float softly through the air and Lance is entranced. Keith has disappeared in a forest of plastic Christmas trees all decorated with an odd assortment of ornaments for sale. Keith pops his head around a tree and waves Lance over. He’s standing by a tree with movie-themed ornaments. Keith grins and pulls one out from behind his back. Lance blanches at the small figure of himself in a tiny blue speedo holding a surfboard. There's a golden string coming out of his head so he can hand on a bough.

“Keith Kogane I thought I said never to mention that again!” He swipes for the little figure and Keith doges laughing aloud and disappearing behind a display case of expensive-looking glass nativity scenes.

They prowl around each other each trying not to knock anything over as well as catch the other. Keith seems to find multiples of the same figure and leaves lines of them marching along the floor. Lance picks them up as he goes, whispering curses laced in laughter as he crawls about the floor looking for Keith. He pauses and listens, he can’t hear Keith at all. He sits up on his knees, peering through the arrangement of trees. It was a tiny shop, how did he disappear? Did he leave?

“Keith? Keith where are you?” strains of Santa Claus is Coming to Town is the only response he gets. He cradles the little figures to his chest and starts to stand when he’s bowled over, landing on his side sending the little figures scattering. Keith cradles him against his heaving chest so he doesn’t hurt himself. He’s laughing so hard that Lance can’t help but join him. Keeping himself propped up on his forearms while his back heaves against Keith's chest. Keith quiets first, he presses a kiss behind Lance’s ear that sends shivers up his spine, before he’s getting up. He gathers little figures then holds out a hand for Lance. They return the figures to the tree and leave.

“Where did you go?” Lance asks after he’s reclaimed Keith’s hand. Keith smiles reaching into his pocket. He pulls out one of the little figures.

“I was buying this.”

Lance stares at him in disbelief watching as Keith slips him back into his pocket.

“I didn’t see a single person in there besides us. Who did you pay?” Lance asks. Keith shrugs and swings their hands between them. He lets out a long sigh.

“We should head back,” Keith says and Lance is happier then he should be at the resigned tone of Keith’s voice.

“Yeah.”

They walk back towards the bike on the other side of the street and it’s Lance who stops short this time. Right outside a large building adorned in a pair of blowing and blinking roller skates from the fifties.

“Keith we have to.” Lance breaths, clutching Keith’s hand tightly.

Keith chews his lip. “There’s a lot of people.”

Lance clung to his hand desperately. He had no idea how to roller skate but he wants to try so badly. “Hey, if they ask I can say you’re my new bodyguard.”

Keith debates a little longer, before he sighs and nods, “that's not going to work, but okay.”

“Yes! Come on this will be so much fun!”

The rink is full of flashing lights, a disco ball, slightly jarring music, and the whirl and clip of roller skaters. It is dark in the entranceway with only a dim lamp lighting the desk area where you got your skates. They moved through there fast and the old man did recognize him at all. His eyes full of cataracts and his hands gnarly as he hands them their skates.

“I’ve been running this here rink since the fifties,” he tells Keith who is leaning across the counter to read the yellowing news articles that are taped to the wall.

“That’s amazing. You should be proud.”

Lance smiled at both of them as he watched the old man's chest puff up. He reached over and grapes Keith’s hand shaking it hardily. 

“You go and have fun now.”

They sit close together on a bench putting on their skates. Keith frowns hard at the wheeled shoe. “I don’t know about this Lance.”

“It doesn’t look that hard,” Lance says glancing at the circle of people gliding round and round the rink under the slow rotating disco ball. The song switches and Keith perks up.

“Oh my god.” 

“Come on Keith!”

They stand at the same time and both slip at the same time. Keith grabs Lance’s arm and the rink before they both can hit the floor. Lance is laughing like a lunatic and Keith is chuckling while looking slightly paranoid. By some miracle they make into the actual rink, feet sliding out from under them like baby deer. Keith has a death grip on the rink and Lance has a death grip on his arm. People breeze past them and Lance feels a bit jealous at how easily they seem to be doing it. Keith has taken to watching their feet and copying the movements. He takes a leap of faith, letting go of the wall and shuffling his feet. He slips and falls bringing Lance down with him. They lay sprawled in a mess by the wall of the rink. Keith grabs his hand and draws in against his chest so it doesn’t get run over. Lance is laughing so hard it hurts.

“Fuck. I’m going to be sore after this.” Keith groans. Lance bats at his hip.

“You’ve been the reason we’ve ended up on the floor both times today. You are only to blame.” Keith groans in response and Lance sneaks a peck against Keith's cheek. “We should get up though before we get into trouble.”

It’s more of a chore to get up then Lance had thought it would be. It takes effort on both of their parts but they finally get up on the wall again. They stumble around the rink in the most ungraceful manner. Lance needs to stop laughing, his stomach is cramping and his sides are hurting; not to mention Keith is looking more and more disgruntled. They pause again at the entrance to the rink panting. Keith leans on the wall and wraps a steadying arm around Lance’s waist. They stand close together listening to the music. Keith had an endearing scrunch between his eyebrows as he watches the skaters go by.

“You’ll figure it out,” Lance says bumping his nose against Keith’s cheek.

Their moment of peace was disrupted by a band of girls approaching them. Keith turns his face away from them and unwraps his arm from Lance’s waist, gripping his bicep instead. Lance smiles at the girls. They seem about his and Keith’s age. One steps forward.

“So uh, we weren’t sure but you’re definitely Lance.” she turns her phone around showing him a picture of the one time he was featured in _Men's Health._ He’s not wearing much and his face is tipped up into the sky, his mouth twisted into an artificial smirk. 

Lance grimaces, “Yeah that’s me. How are you guys?” he cringes at himself.

The girls all start talking in a flurry. Lance’s attention is torn away from them as Keith lets go of his arm. He points in the direction of the bathroom, before shuffling away.

“Lance, can we get a picture with you?”

Lance relents, leaning down carefully so he doesn’t fall. The girls crowd around him and it’s odd. They’re his age but he feels so alienated from him. They also mark his time here as over. They gaggle around him even after the picture and he dols out some hugs. They’re drawing a crowd now and Lance casts his eyes towards the bathrooms. The doors stay firmly closed. He puts his panic to the side and works through this like the adult and actor he’s supposed to be. He takes a few more pictures and hugs a few more people. There are only a few people left on the floor actually skating. Everyone else has congregated around Lance until he has been pushed out of the rink all together. He wonders if Keith has fled, but then someones pushing through the crowd breaking them up and telling them to get back to what they are doing. Keith grabs his arm and walks him carefully back to his shoes. Keith has a cap pulled low over his eyes and his hair is tucked up ridiculously into it. He stands in front of Lance, feet planted firmly and arms crossed over his chest giving Lance the cover to change his shoes.

“Where did you get a cap?” Lance whispers to him as they walk out. His question is answered when Keith takes it off and hands it to the old man. Saying a quiet thank you.

It is dark when they step out of the roller rink. Lance wraps his arm back around Keith as they walk back towards the bike. Keith is looking wistfully up at the sky and Lance bumps their hips together. Keith’s eyes fall back from the heavens onto his again.

“Thank you for the save back there. Even if you looked really dumb.” Lance says, chuckling as Keith pushes him away. Lance reclaims his spot wrapping his arm back around him. He turns his face to the sky now. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen the stars. I kind of missed them you know?”

Keith hums in agreement. “Yeah. I may be biased but you haven’t seen stars unless you’ve seen a New Mexican night sky.”

“You’re definitely biased.”

They get back to the bike and Keith hands him his helmet. He pauses before getting on.

“I think I can get you stars. If you want.”

“You can get me stars?” Lance asks, sitting up straighter. Keith nods and messes with the corner of his phone which he had pulled out of his pocket. “I mean, yeah. Stars and more time with you is the perfect combination.”

“Okay. Give me a sec.”

Keith steps away from the bike and turns his back on Lanec talking quietly to whoever is on the other side. It really did only take a few seconds and then Keith was climbing back on the bike.

“Okay. We’re going to the college. If that’s okay.” he peers around his shoulder and Lance tightens his arms around his waist.

“Of course.”

By the college, Keith meant a big domed building that was actually atop a hill a little further away from the college. There was a lone figure waiting by the door and Keith raised his hand to them as he gets off the bike. Lance follows behind hesitantly.

“Keith, what are you doing with Lance McClain.” the guy asks. He’s tall and thin. Dark skin and blue eyes. He actually looks a little like Lance which he doesn’t know how to feel.

“Curtis, you promised you wouldn’t tell Shiro,” Keith said holding his hand out for something. Curtis paused before handing Keith a set of keys. 

“You haven’t kidnapped him have you?” He peers around Keith at Lance who waves nervously. “You aren’t being kidnapped, are you? Keith’s a little weird but I didn’t think he was that bad.”

Keith slugs Curti’s arm and Lance winces. It looked painful.

“I’m serious Curtis. Don’t tell Shiro. He’ll flip and I’ll never hear the end of it.” Keith says.

Curtis holds up his hands. “I won’t. I owed you one remember. Do you remember how everything works?” Keith nods at the question. “Okay. Keith makes sure everything is put back in order and everything gets put away and locked up. It’s your ass if you don’t. Got it?”

“It was uh, nice to meet you,” Lance says as Curtis walks by him. 

“Yeah, you too,” he says shaking Lance’s hand. “And Keith is a good guy. I’d watch out for his brother though. He’s fiercely protective of him.”

Lance tried to picture someone fiercely protective from what Keith has told him about his brother. Lance nods none the less. Curtis smiles at him before moving on, walking down the hill with his hands stuffed into his pockets.

Keith is fighting the lock on a side door of the building when Lance comes up behind him.

“So that was Curtis huh?” 

Keith glances at him. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’s him.”

Lance nods absently even though his heart is actually lurching over the fact that he’s meeting people from Keith’s life. It’s exciting but a little scary. He wasn't sure what they were, what Keith wanted them to be.

“Are you ready?” Keith asks him, pulling him from his thoughts. He had the door cracked. Lance nods wordlessly even as he’s not sure what he’s walking into. Keith smiles and takes his hand. “It’s going to be dark. Keep hold of my hand.”

It’s cool when they step in and Lance shivers against the difference in temperature. It is cavernous inside. Their steps echoing. He grabs Keith's hand with both of his. Keith soft laugh bouncing off the walls and all around them. Lance squeezes his hand.

“It’s okay. I’m almost there.” Keith’s voice comes at him from every direction then runs circles around itself at a high point in the room. Then lights are turning on and Lance gasps. It’s an observatory. He can see where the dome opens and a platform where a telescope would go. He and Keith are standing on a scarily thin staircase that winds up to a small room towards the top of the dome. 

“We’re going down,” Keith says, pointing out the lines of chairs that are built into the floor in a semi-circle. They’re tilted back. “Or at least you are.”

Lance turns to him wide-eyed at that. Keith laughs again. 

“This also doubles as a planetarium. I’m gonna go set the track I want and I’ll be down there in a little.” 

Lance watches Keith climb up the rest of the way to the small room as he climbs down to the chairs. He sits in the middle leaning back staring up at the dome. He jumps and the chair moves. He scrambles before he realizes that the whole platform of chairs is being lifted upwards. He looks up at the booth. Keith is grinning at him and Lance shakes his head. Keith holds up a finger and then it does dark again. Only this time, slowly spinning into existence against the curve of the dome is the beautiful expanse of the night sky. Lance can’t help but gasp. He feels like he’s floating through the stars.

Keith sits next to him after a few minutes and Lance reaches for his hand without taking his eyes off the sparkling likes of the stars.

“Does this count?” Keith’s voice is so soft it doesn't echo and Lance turns to him. Keith’s eyes reflect the stars perfectly. It’s like looking at a replica of the sky.

“It’s perfect,” Lance says. They’re kissing. Lance pulled Keith closer, closer. Digging his fingers into Keith’s hair. He finds it funny. He’s an actor in Hollywood, and this was the most magical thing he’d felt in all of his years creating magic.

The sky above them changes and Keith pulls away. “You should look,” he says, his lips brushing against Keith’s. So Lance does. He looks up at the dome. His hands are still cradling Keith’s hair. The gasp gets caught in his throat and his eyes fill with unexplainable tears. 

The galaxy swirled around them. The sheer beauty and awe of the spiral that they called home takes his breath away. He looks at Keith then. His face is turned towards the light, it glints off his hair and Lance can’t get over the way the stars reflect in his eyes.

“Starlight.”

“What?” 

Those eyes were on his again, and Keith was tilting his head. Lance licks over his suddenly very dry lips.

“I think I found the perfect pet name.”

Keith blinks in disbelief. “You were serious?”

“Of course, starlight.”

Keith looks down but doesn’t say anything against it. “You’re still cheesy Lance.”

“I know,” Lance says, tipping Keith’s chin up so they can lock lips again.

Lance isn’t sure what happened after that. It’s a blur of stars and kisses and the whisper of starlight. Lance is burning inside by the time they leave the observatory. His veins sing with need and the warmth in his stomach is now persistent. He wonders if Keith feels the same. Lance squeezes him tighter than usual, pressing a hand to over Keith’s heart. Even over the rumble of the bike, he can feel it pounding against the palm.

Lance doesn’t care about cameras when they get back to the hotel. Tearing off Keith’s helmet to kiss him again. Desperate and wet. 

“I want you, Keith.”

Lance isn’t sure how they got through the lobby, but he’s pressing Keith against the golden reflective wall of the elevator as soon as the door closes. Pressing kisses against his neck, sucking over his pulse point. He pushes Keith up the wall as he keens under Lance’s touch. He wraps his legs around Lance’s waist pressing them incredibly close. Lance breaks away from the love bite he was working into Keith’s neck with a moan.

“Fuck Keith.”

He looks beautiful laid out on Lance’s bed. His shirt is on the floor, milky, bare chest heaving in the blue light of the pool. Lance sheds his shirt and is on him. Caressing his torso with his hands and tongue and lips. He kisses down Keith’s happy trial, freezing when Keith’s hand pulls hard at his hair. Lance looks up at him. He’s flushed, lips parted and wet, but his eyes aren’t right. Lance pushes up on his elbows.

“What’s wrong Keith? Do you want me to stop?”

Keith shakes his head looking away. Lance sits up fully, scooting up the bed. He turns Keith's face so that they're looking at each other.

“I need to know if I did something, or if you aren’t comfortable.”

Keith swallows. “I-I’ve, never,” he breaks off and Lance’s eyes bug.

“You’ve never had sex?”

Keith shakes his head turning his face into the pillow. 

“Keith, that isn’t something to be ashamed of. I’m just surprised is all.” Keith peers up at him and Lance runs his hands through his bangs. “Do you want to stop?”

Keith shakes his head, “No. It feels amazing, just. Be gentle with me.”

Lance kisses him then, lowering himself over him again. 

“Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably gonna add a few more tags but this was the only really spicy chapter there is going to be. Plot is coming, I promise. 
> 
> Do I know anything about L.A.??? No. No, I do not. So sorry to anyone who knows the area and knows that none of these places exist.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who comments, reads, and kudos. It means the universe to me. 
> 
> Love you all bunches!!


	13. Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END

The bed he wakes up in is way too soft. The room is way too bright. Keith blinks the sleep away from his eyes as he sits up. It all comes back to him in detail. He buries his head in the overly soft pillow, his cheeks red. He’s happy, in a soft sated kind of way. He rolls over and some of that happiness goes away. Lance isn’t there anymore and the sheets are cold. Keith is afraid to sit up and see that the hotel room is empty. He does, slowly as stupid as it is. The hotel room does appear empty and Keith feels nausea fill him. Lance left him alone?

He glances down at his bare chest. It’s littered with soft bruises that have him blushing even more. Lance wouldn’t leave him, he had been so gentle with Keith last night. He had made him feel safe, he wouldn’t leave. Keith reaches for his phone that is still face down on the bedside table where he had put it last night. It was early in the morning, much earlier than he thought it would be. Shiro has yet to send floods of worried texts to him and Pidge sent him one text with a Lenny face and nothing else. Keith sighs and clutches his phone as peers around the frankly luxurious hotel room. He suddenly wonders if he made a mistake. A big big mistake.

He slides out of bed, wincing as his feet touch the cold floor. The whole room actually feels artificially cold. He keeps the comforter wrapped around his waist as he stumbles across the room. He’s sore and he hisses in pain. 

“Lance?” he calls out and it sounds pathetically small in the room. Circling around and falling flat without an answer. He cringes at himself at how loud it rings in the silence. He doesn’t mind if Lance had to go do something. He was busy after all, but the least he could have done is told him, or woken him up. What did Keith expect though? He wasn’t Lance’s boyfriend. He was Lance’s...Actually he has no idea what Lance wanted him to be. His kisses and the soft way he treats Keith should have been proof enough that Lance likes him at least a little bit the way Keith liked him. Maybe the sex was subpar, Keith was a pathetic virgin after all. Fumbling and blushing and making a fool of himself as Lance expertly worked over his body. He blushes at his train of thought and then blushes harder for blushing.

He feels gross, he realizes. He doesn’t smell very good either. His hair feels greasy and his underarms are slick. He wrinkles his nose at himself. Is he allowed to use the shower? He thinks he should be able to, there isn’t anyone here to tell him otherwise. He grimaces down at his dirty clothes, his boxers in particular. He didn’t want to put them back on after he was clean. So he heaved a breath and walked bare-skinned to Lance’s wardrobe and opened it in a flurry. He wasn't going to let Lance out of his grip that easily, not to mention he wanted to kick the guy where it hurt. When he saw him again. It wasn’t going to be an if. He pulls out a yellow sweatshirt that is at least a size too big and way too hot for the temperature. He thinks it’s cute though, so he pulls it out and then digs out a pair of underwear. Smirking at the silken feeling of the boxer shorts. Lance would have silk underwear he decides. 

Keith stares at the contraption that is supposed to be a shower. There are more handles in the one little cubicle than in an entire shower store. He gingerly steps into the shower, one foot in, one foot out, and turns the first handle. It sprays ice cold water on the half of Keith’s body that’s inside. Not just from the showerhead directly above his head, but also from the walls.

“Fuck!” Keith screeches. Hopping back out flinging water across the marble tile of the bathroom floor. He glares daggers at the stupid thing. Why couldn’t it be a regular shower? No, why couldn’t Lance be there when he woke up this morning? Why wasn’t he there laughing at Keith before leaning in and showing him the probably insultingly easy way to turn on the goddamned thing?

He’s more hurt by this then he was letting himself feel, he realizes blankly as he sits bare butt on the cold floor. He had been expecting Lance to be there. Hell, he would have preferred it if he had woken up to Lance and then told to get the fuck out. That would have been better than this. He wanted to tell Lance, asking him if he would be his boyfriend. He buries his head in his hands and groans. His eyes are prickling and he hates himself for it. He shouldn't be crying over this boy. He was a fucking celebrity, why would he want  _ Keith.  _ He runs a hand roughly under his runny nose, snorting grossly. Maybe he was hurting so much because Lance had made him feel wanted. He’d called Keith beautiful. Several times. Keith had believed it, he wasn’t so sure he did now.

He tries the shower again after a few minutes of sitting on the floor staring at the ceiling. His ass is sore and he staggers a bit as he stands. He didn’t cry though, so he counts that as the biggest win of the day. After several curse words and fluctuations in water pressure and temperature, Keith finally gets the shower to work for him. He isn’t sure what he thinks of the multiple jets of water that spray at him, but he’s grateful for it in the long run. He doesn’t take a long shower and his phone is ringing as he steps out. His heart jumps into his throat. Maybe it was Lance, calling to tell him that he was out getting donuts and was expecting Keith to be laid out of the bed for him when he returned. It wasn’t him though, it was Shiro. 

Keith debated picking it up. What was he supposed to say? Hey, Shiro I royally fucked up, yeah again. Crazy right? Only this time, my heart hurts a little more. He sighs and rubs his eyes again. He was not going to fucking cry over a boy he isn’t even dating. He picks up the phone.

“When were you going to tell me?” Shiro’s voice sounds odd. Like he was on a different planet. It was quiet too and Keith didn’t know what to do with that.

“What are you talking about?” he sets his phone on the counter, puts it on speaker, and drops the damp towel that had been around his waist to the floor.

“Keith don't play dumb. Seriously, this is something you should have told me.” Shiro sounds annoyed now and Keith grits his teeth as he slips on Lance’s silk underwear.

“Shiro, I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

“Lance, Keith. When were you going to tell me you and  _ Lance fucking McClain _ are a thing.”

Keith goes cold. His hands freezing as he slips on Lance’s sweatshirt. “W-we aren’t.”

Shiro scoffs, “Really? Because that’s not what security camera feed says. That’s not what the magazines are saying. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Keith’s head is pounding and he’s acutely aware of the fear that’s spiking through him. He was alone in Lance’s hotel room, and if people knew then he had no way of getting out. He bites his lip straining to hear if anyone has entered the room. He’s probably being paranoid.

“...not just that, Keith he’s not even fucking single.”

That gets Keith’s attention. He hadn’t noticed that Shiro was still rambling.

“W-what?” his voice is quiet. Pained even. Shiro keeps rambling and Keith grips the edge of the counter. “Shiro! What do you mean not single?”

Shiro pauses and he sounds out of breath. “Yeah. He’s been dating Lotor Dibazaal for years now.”

Keith’s legs are trembling a little bit. What the fuck? What the  _ fuck _ ? Why, why would Lance do that to him? He couldn’t wrap his head around any of this. Lance had played him, and well. Very well. Painfully well. Keith’s throat hurt at the repressed knot that was stuck in the middle of it.

“W-where did you find that out?” If there was one thing Keith had gotten from writing papers in college, it was the importance of reliable resources. Tabloids lied through their teeth and fan sites could hardly be trusted.

“It’s up on Lance’s official Instagram. It’s their anniversary today. Oh, and on twitter. His personal one again.” Shiro sounds wary now like he’s holding his breath. “Keith, are you okay?”

No. No Keith was not okay. He was angry and confused and hurt. So hurt.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” His voice sounded like every layer was not fine. He glances up at himself in the mirror. He looks well-rested and clean, he would look on top of the world if it were not for the red rimming his eyes. He sneers at his reflection and turns away from it. He grabbed his phone and stalked out of the bathroom. The room is still empty and cold and huge. He suddenly doesn’t care if his clothes are a day old. He tears off Lance's sweatshirt and tugs his shirt and pants back on. 

“Keith where are you?”

Right. He hadn’t hung up. He pauses and runs his hands through his hair. Lance’s overly expensive shampoo had rendered it silky.

“T-the Grand Lion Hotel.” 

The sharp inhale of breath from Shiro was expected. “Keith, what happened?”

“He fucked me! That’s what happened. H-he f-fucked me, and called me b-beautiful and fuck,” he breaks off as a tear finally escapes his eyes. It slides hotly down his face and he lets it until it drops onto the floor. “A-and I thought maybe…” he shakes his head, tearing a wrist harshly across his face. He scans the area for his shoes. He can’t remember taking them off, but they were there by the door. Thrown haphazardly in different directions. He shoves them onto his feet. Shiro is still on the phone.

“Your bike is all over the internet. Do you want me to come get you?” Shiro doesn’t sound as harsh as it had. 

“Why would you need to come get me?” Keith asks as he slowly opens the door to peer out. Shiro sighs.

“I guess Lotor has a bike almost exactly the same? And people either think you stole it from him or tried to replicate it so you could woo Lance or something.”

“Red is one of a kind. My mom built her from scratch. Not a single soul in this universe has a bike like her.” Keith hisses, he’s staring at the elevator. He growls and spins around, going to look for a staircase instead. He leans against a wall when he finds it. He can hear commotion echoing up the flights. He wonders if Lance is down there. “Tell you what. There’s an old gas station a few blocks from this place. You can come pick me up there.” he hangs up after that.

He ducks his head low and slips out of an employee only door that was cracked. It’s still morning as he walks away from the hotel, away from Lance. His phone is silent. If Lance wants him. He knows where to find him. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and smiles sadly down at the sidewalk. He had no idea what he had been thinking. The last couple of days had been far too good. Lance had been far too good. Hippo’s and fifties style roller rinks all mashed together with stars and little ornaments into one giant swirl that pressed on Keith’s mind. He should have known, but his heart had pulled heavily towards Lance. Pulled more towards him than with anyone else. 

Fuck you universe, Keith thinks bitterly,  _ fuck you. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Drops this and runs, very very far*
> 
> Sorry for the shortness and the lack of cute
> 
> Also, it is not the end. Do not fear, everything will resolve. 
> 
> But I think this is a cool way to end something. 
> 
> Anywho, don't be to upset. And thanks again for reading and loving and commenting. I can't wait to hear what you guys have to say about this one.


	14. Lance

Lance thumps his head against the door to his room, pausing before going in. Ryan is standing behind him, silent but watchful. He’s grateful for him, the commotion he had gone through all day had set him on edge. The cruelty he had displayed had set him on edge.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Ryan asks, stepping towards him. Lance peels himself away from the door and casts a small smile at him.

“No. I’m sure it’s empty.”

Ryan looks like he wants to argue, but he nods and steps towards his own room. Lance takes a deep breath and unlocks his room.

He knew it would be empty. Who would stick around after getting abandoned? He wouldn’t. It feels colder than it usually is and Lance feels sick guilt twist in his chest as he sees the stuffed hippo on the floor, halfway out of the bag it was stashed in. Keith hadn’t taken it with him. Lance toes off his shoes, the toes creasing as he leaves them tied, not caring. The bathroom door is flung completely open and a damp towel sits on the floor by the sink. Keith must have helped himself to the shower while Lance was gone. Lance skips it for the night. He shucks off his jacket and unbuttons his shirt letting it hang loose off of his frame. He sends a distasteful look at the bed. He curses himself for asking the housekeeping to stay out of the room. They hadn’t come in and remade the bed or washed the sheets that were bound to smell like Keith and intimacy.

Lance turns away from it harshly, striding with purpose towards his wardrobe. He throws it open and wrestles his suitcase from the bottom. He’s ready to leave this fucking city. He’s ready to go home. Ready to let the mess he had just made himself simmer and die. He pulls down clothes and stuffs them unceremoniously into the case. His mind is set on a loop as he works. He growls at the insistence from his brain that he wasn’t helping anybody, that he was being selfish. He slams the lid down and yanks the zipper harshly along it’s track. He’s crying, he realizes blanky as he lets himself fall dejectedly onto the floor. He stares at the high ceiling of his room and wipes at the stubborn tears that track down his cheeks. He really has no right to cry over anything.

He had woken up that morning, earlier than he thought he would, and was disoriented for a little at the solid weight pressed against his side. His body flooded with fondness as he looked down at Keith. His hair was fluffy from the wild tossing it had done the night before. Tangled at the back and stuck to his forehead in little patches with sweat. Lance runs his fingers through Keith’s hair, smiling down at him when his nose scrunched up, and his pink lips pulled gently down in a frown before slowly settling back into a gentle line. Lance admires him in the low light, smiles at every twitch of his lips. He isn’t sure what happened, but as he leaned down to press a kiss to the corner of Keith’s lips, his phone rang, and his world came tumbling down.

_Summer Scandal! Young Actor Lance McClain Cheats on Long Time Boyfriend._

Lance stared at the post Hunk had sent him. He had panicked scrambling off the bed as he answered the phone and Honerza informed him that it was his and Lotor’s anniversary. He had yelled at her, something he wasn’t proud of, before hanging up. He hadn’t really believed it until he checked his socials and saw the horrid, old as fuck pictures his team had posted. They as if to lay the final layer onto this disaster Hunk sends him what the tabloids are saying. The pictures are a confusing mix of security and grungy and paparazzi photos. Lotor was claiming that most of them were him and Lance, the red bike and Keith’s helmeted head being the most damning. Then there was a stupidly clear picture of Lance and Keith's lip locked the night before. E-Altea was going to interview Lotor as if it was their responsibility for Lance “cheating” on him with Keith.

He looks up from his phone, over to the man in his bed, at his soft hair and lips. His creamy skin on full display to Lance, the sheets leaving little to the imagination and it’s like reality slaps him in the face, and Keith isn’t reality. Keith is a strange miracle that Lance stumbled upon. He’s an anomaly that Lance would have only dreamed of. He can’t have Keith. He doesn’t want Keith. Not like this, not in this way. He doesn’t want Keith to deal with him. Deal with _this._ He covered his mouth and turned away as his eyes filled with tears. He never should have seen Keith again, he never should have wanted him in the first place. They were so different from each other, their lives were so different. Keith would hate his life if he stayed with Lance, so he did something he would never forgive himself for. He left Keith. Alone in the bed in an unfamiliar hotel room, because he knew how much that hurt, and if nothing would drive Keith away that would. 

Lance squeezes his eyes shut and leans his head against the suitcase, bending over it. Letting himself breathe. He had spent the rest of the morning hiding in Ryan and Kolivan’s room while he fed kindling into the fire that was his socials right now. He didn’t deny or confirm that he and Lotor were a thing. He just gave small little comments to certain people if he knew about what was going on. He watched as the number of followers he had fluctuated. It was Honerva’s arrival at the hotel that had him dressing hurriedly in one of Ryan’s suits and walking into the lobby. He marched up to her even as he could see the mass of people behind her.

“You’re ruining my life.” he hisses at her. She turns bored eyes to him. Running her tongue over her teeth. They're stained from coffee and the purple lipstick she wears.

“I’m not going to talk to you about this right now hun.” she rasps and pushes past him and starts towards the elevator. He fumbled after her glaring at her back, as she turns before the doors and heads into the bar to the side of the main lobby. She sits down at the bar and stares at him expectantly. Lance grits his teeth but sits.

“Why Honerva?” he can’t wrap his head around why she had decided this was a good thing to do. She shrugs and orders a green cocktail. She takes her time to sip her drink and Lance waves off the bartender. If he gets drunk he’s gonna do something stupid. He would rather not go back up to his room and beg Keith’s forgiveness. He needs to stay away from Keith.

“You got boring,” Honerva says, finally turning to look at him. “Nobody really was thinking about you hun. I had to do something.”

“What? That makes no sense! The movie is coming out in a month! If they weren’t talking about me they would be.”

Honerva sighs and puts down her drink, “Listen Lance. If it weren’t for me, you would still be a pathetic no-name actor. I have to keep your name in the spotlight. You keep fighting me on everything you’re going to fall into obscurity. Lotor is popular, he knows people, he’s well-liked by big companies and you guys never actually announced you were breaking up.” she takes another dainty sip and then smirks over the rim at his expression. “Everyone loves drama, Lance.”

He’s here now. With a messily packed suitcase and a ton of regret sitting on his chest. He had left the posts up on his socials, he had answered Lotor’s call. He had listened to his satisfied chortling and then deleted Keith’s number. Keith hadn’t tried to call or even text him and Lance felt unfair bitterness towards him. He should just be happy that Honerva is letting him go home. It’ll cause more controversy, she had said when Lance had pleaded with her. He attributes her leniency to the green cocktail.

The wardrobe is cleaned out and Lance finally resigns himself to actually making the things fit properly. He pulls all of the items out again and folds them. He’s missing one of his sweatshirts. He tries not to think about it. He tries not to think about anything. Lance stands, rolling the suitcase upright and to the door. Stripping out of Ryan’s suit he folds that as well and finally makes his way over to the bed. His flight leaves at ten the next morning. The hippo stares at him from his slumped position and lance looks away from it, tears filling his eyes again. He should have realized sooner that whatever he and Keith were, or could have been, was way too perfect. Too wonderful. He didn’t deserve Keith. Keith deserves someone who could love him right, someone who wasn’t an emotional mess. Someone who held him after his first night of sex. Lance doubled over himself at the thought of the last one. He was no better than Lotor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another super short, super not fluffy, and probably super uninteresting chapter.
> 
> I also forgot that Allura is in this story? oops.
> 
> Another update (hopefully longer, fingers crossed) will be out before the end of this week. maybe sooner than expected. I really just had to get a Lance chapter out of the way to get this new part of the story rolling. I think the end is close approaching.  
> (That sounds really ominous. My bad😂)
> 
> Sorry if these have been boring you.😆
> 
> As always thank you for the wonderful comments, that make writing so worthwhile.


	15. Keith

Keith copes because he has to. Shiro makes him spend Sunday with him sitting on his couch watching early two thousands cartoons. Curtis finds them slumped on either end of the couch, copious amounts of snacks between them, and scattered tissue around Keith when he gets home. It had been awkward to explain everything to Shiro. Whose face had remained the same throughout the explanation. Eyebrows raised lips pursed. He couldn’t cross his arms because he had left one of them in another room. Keith could tell it bugged him that he lost that amount of “adultness”. Keith wasn’t sure what he had expected Shiro to say. Maybe laugh at him for falling for someone in a totally different social circle? Maybe shake his head with a disappointed look in his eyes, but no. All he says is,

“So you were going on a date.”

Keith hadn’t cried during the explanation, but he had afterward. Curled up on Shiro’s couch, hugging his pillow to his chest. He’s angry, he’s sad, he’s confused, but he moves on. He pushes Lance to the back of his mind because he has to. His bank account is dangerously close to empty, so he lets himself slow down with his brother and frosted animal crackers that Shiro rants about hating before eating half the bag. 

Curtis picks up his bike for him and he goes to work that Monday at his new job. He isn’t entirely sure what he should have expected. He was told to dress in black slacks and a “nice” shirt. He burrows one from Shiro, it's two sizes too big, and he immediately feels out of place as he walks into the kitchen. All eyes turn to him and he raises an awkward hand, the other one reaching around his back to attempt to tuck in the overhang of the shirt more firmly into the back of his pants. Training is far shorter then Keith would normally be comfortable with but from the gist of it the restaurant is a branch of several, they cater to large events like galas and celeb weddings. Keith feels a bitter taste fill his mouth. He was never getting away from celebrities or their backward sick lives. It’s work though and he has to be grateful. His life falls back into routine.

Pidge knew something was wrong with him immediately after seeing him again. They let themselves into his room while he lay staring at the ceiling. That was one thing that didn’t fall into routine. He didn’t really sleep anymore. He didn’t know if that had to do with his late hours or something else. He sits up and they march over to him dumping take out in his lap and clambering onto his bed.

“What happened?”

He unwrapped the food and heaved a sigh as he looked down at it.

“I’m not a virgin anymore,” he tries to smile at them, but he feels heavy. “But it wasn’t the right guy.”

In all actuality that wasn’t even the thing that bothered him the most. It was just the easiest way to explain it. He knew they already knew more than they were letting on. Pidge doesn’t say anything though, just scoots over and puts their head on Keith’s shoulder. He laughs a little watery looking down at their head.

“Hey Pidgey, it’s not that bad. No need to get sentimental with me.” 

Pidge sighs, pulling their legs up and wrapping their arms around them.

“You say that, but the bags under your eyes say other things, and I feel bad for making fun of you.”

Keith sighs resting his cheek on Pidge’s head. 

“Nah, no need to apologize. I just wish that I had been a little smarter.”

Things should have gone back to normal. They _should_ have, but Lance seemed to be everywhere. He would haunt Keith at night, where there was nothing else to keep his attention. Lance’s eyes, his hair, his laughter, his kisses. They plagued Keith and then during the day, he saw the trailer for Lance’s new movie _everywhere._ He watched it sitting in the student union one night trying to escape his stupid thoughts. He had stared dumbfounded as Lance’s quiet voice came from the near-silent speakers. Blushed at Lance rising out of the water of a pool bare chest heaving as he stares at his hands. At the new powers, he had just unlocked, even if the trailer didn’t show them what those powers were. It came to an abrupt end as Lance turned and stared right into the camera, eyes that same unbelievable blue. He leaves after that, ducking his head and speed walking out.

He’s recognized more often now. He no longer has any of his socials anymore, which is fine, but he still hears about the hell that the whole situation is. Lance has gone back to Miami which Keith had nearly called him over. Lance and Lotor were seen in public together more often, which Keith nearly deleted Lance’s number over. He should have done that a long time ago, but even with the shit that’s going down, and even though Lance is a fucking dick, Keith can’t hate him. Which he hates himself for. 

He tries to get back to a level of normalcy. He goes to work, helps Shiro on his bad days, goes for early morning Chinese with Pidge, fails chemistry, but there is always that sharp pain in his chest that won’t go away.

He works later one Saturday, staying far after his usual quitting time, but he was in jeopardy of losing a scholarship because of chemistry. He needs something to fall back on if that were to happen. So that’s how he finds himself on a Saturday, sweat soaking through the back of his starched white shirt, peering out the little porthole-like windows of the kitchen at the dining hall. They normally had a rush at around six then it quieted again at around nine. Keith had prayed that no one would come in. It was hard-working here. Keith had to learn to rein in his tongue, cut the usual rough timbre of his voice down to a softer more pleasant tone. He hated wearing the formal uniform, and the people who ate there had no qualms about being assholes to you if you seemed even a little under them. 

“Goddamnit,” Keith curses as he sees Miley grab a menu and walk towards the lobby. His luck wasn’t holding out and he smoothed down his shirt. His hair was greasy and falling out of its ponytail. Lauran groans just as much as he did.

“I’m sorry, but can you deal with this one? I literally feel like my feet are gonna fall off,” she asks slumping against the wall. Keith hunted and grabbed the leather-bound book they used to take orders in. He was fine with relieving Lauran, she worked twice as much as he did. He smooths back his hair one last time, glancing at himself in the glass of the doors before ducking out. 

“He’s sitting out of the terrace. One man, careful with him though he looks like a douche.” Miley scoffs as he passes her. Keith sends her a weary smile. The people he worked with sometimes made it better. 

He has to admit to himself that it’s odd someone is sitting on the terrace, especially at close to midnight, but to each his own. He climbs the stairs ducking through the doorway, passing by the hanging ivy and honeysuckle that accents the entire length of the terrace, and freezes. He ducks back behind said plants to regain his composure. Lotor is sitting with one leg crossed over the other looking at the menu. Keith tugs at his hair a constant stream of _oh shit,_ running through his mind. Maybe he still had time to back away and send someone else. He couldn't do that though. They had already left Lotor waiting far too long. He shakes out his limbs and cracks his neck. Maybe Lotor was so tired he wouldn’t even notice who Keith is, or maybe he just didn’t care.

“Good evening sir,” should Keith say morning? “Can I interest you in wine or bottle of champagne to get you started tonight.”

Lotor looks up at him and grins. Keith knows he's been recognized. 

“You really are very pretty.” His voice sounds silky smooth. He looks Keith up and down, starting from the top of his head to his toes. He tries not to scrim. He ignores the other comment.

“I highly recommend the Merlot,” Keith says stating over Lotor’s shoulder at the glowing city. He has no idea what the Merlot tastes like or the quality of it, but it’s the wine of all mystery novels, so Keith used that constantly. Lotor made a humming sound. Keith flicked his eyes back to him as he put down the menu.

“I know who you are, and I think you know who I am, but you seem quite opposed to showing that.”

Keith bit the inside of his cheek, clutching his little pad harder. Lotor seemed to see his reaction and smiled all teeth at him, batting his eyelashes.

“There is no need to be so,” Lotor worked his lips and rubbed his fingers together as if he couldn’t find the right word. “Cold.” His smile makes Keith want to hit someone, or himself. He huffs instead and readies his pen.

“Can I get you some wine or champagne to start out your night?”

Lotor frowns slightly and Keith takes that as a small triumph. He taps his pen against the paper in a gesture of hurry up. Lotor’s frown deepened, but he ordered a bottle of Pinot Noir, and Keith was on his way.

“I’ll have that out for you soon.”

Too soon for his liking, Keith thinks as he prepares the bottle. He wraps it in a champagne towel, grabs a wine glass, takes a deep breath, and makes his way back out to Lotor. He seems to be waiting for Keith when he gets there. Watching with that gross smile back as Keith pours his wine for him and deposits the bottle on the table. He stands stationary by the table as Lotor twirls the dark wine in his glass and then takes a languid sip. All while keeping his eyes on Keith. He wonders how much trouble he would really get into if he hit the guy.

When Lotor finally puts his glass down Keith had become aware of the ache in his knees and lower back. He raises his pen again, praying that Lotor would take the hit and order _something,_ but no. The universe doesn’t work like that. Instead, Lotor crosses his hands over the gold embossed menu and studies Keith.

“I have to admit, it was odd seeing you work here. I didn’t know that Hunk hired random college students.”

Keith blinked. Hunk? Lotor seemed to read the confusion off of his face and made a face of mock surprise.

“You didn’t know? This restaurant is owned by Hunk Garret.” he finally drops Keith’s gaze, running a long thin finger over the rim of his glass. “ I guess he was feeling merciful. I mean he is Lance’s best friend, and you are Lance’s fuck toy.”

It shouldn’t make sense, and in a way, it doesn’t, but the hurt part of him immediately knows what Lotor means. He hadn’t applied here. He didn’t even know that the restaurant existed.

“W-what are you talking about?” his voice breaks and he hates himself for it. He’s doing what he told himself he wouldn’t. Lotor was playing a game, he knew he was, and Keith let himself get roped in.

Lotor is still running his finger along the crystal rim of his glass. He shrugs but his lips quirk up and his tongue darts out to flick across his lips.

“Do you think you’re the first person Lance has done this with? You aren’t as special as you like to think you are, and he likes to keep possession of his things, even when he gets tired of them. He makes sure he can keep tags on them. You don’t work here by chance sweetheart.”

Keith narrows his eyes at Lotor.

“Why do you even care? If he cheats on you that much, why don’t you just break up with him?”

“Oh Keith, honey, you don’t understand this industry do you?”

Keith runs his tongue over his top teeth. He’s getting angry and he’s tired. He wants to go home and finish the paper that will either make or break his grade in his writing class.

“No, I fucking don’t. Now, do you want something or did you only come here to harass me?”

“I told you I had no idea you worked here.”

Keith rolls his eyes long and hard, “Bullshit. Order or sit there and drink your overpriced grape juice, but let me do my fucking job.”

Lotor sits up now, scowling at him, “It doesn’t bother you? That Lance cast you off like a used shoe? Don’t you care?”

Keith folds his arms over his chest, “What do you want me to do? Cry? Yell at you? If Lance doesn’t want me, then he doesn't want me. My life doesn’t revolve around the reactions of others. What a pathetic existence.”

Lotor opens his mouth and then closes it. He does that twice more before sneering at Keith, “You are worthless.”

Keith shrugs, “Maybe, but I don’t mark my worth on what people think of me, or who's paying attention.”

“I can’t believe Lance would lower himself to _your_ standards.”

Keith worked his jaw, his annoyance was growing as the conversation continued. He finally dropped his arms putting his pad on the table.

“Listen, I’m sorry your boyfriend fucked me. If I had known I wouldn’t have even talked to Lance in a more then friendly manner. I didn’t do anything because I knew it would provoke the press, or whatever you think I did, and honestly, if Lance is dating you then his standards must not be too high.” he swiped his pad and Lotor’s menu off the table and stalked back down the stairs. He groans at the bottom realizing that he hadn’t given him a bill. If the guy wanted something else then he could bother someone else, but Keith was going to do something stupid if he didn’t walk away. He walks back towards Miley who frowns as he approaches. He runs his hand over his face and doesn’t even try to smile.

“I need a bill for the guy upstairs.”

Miley nods and types away at the register,

“Are you okay? You should go home.”

Keith nods, “Yeah I plan on it. I really don’t know if he wants anything else, but he refuses to work with me.”

Miley sighs, pausing before tearing off the bill. “You know, I’ve come to see people like this; just because their heart beats behind Gucci and yours behind thrift, doesn’t mean you’re any less or they’re anymore. Don’t let them get to you.”

Keith blinks and then laughs, “Did you come up with that?”

Miley grins at him finally handing him the bill, “Yeah I did.”

“It’s amazing Miley, I think I’m gonna go home and frame that.”

Keith smiles on the way back up to Lotor, his lips only falling back into a deep line when he walks up to the table.

“Here’s your bill, I hope you enjoyed your visit.”

Lotor ignores him, so Keith turns and leaves. He leans against the wall of the kitchen as the doors swing shut behind him. He takes the band out of his hair and rubs his aching scalp. Lance is now running around his mind and he wants nothing more then to protect Lance from that man, because Lance is kind and real and good, and Lotor is everything but that. Lance needs someone who will treat him right. Keith groans and yanks his bow tie off, no matter how hard he tries to tell himself he has, he most certainly has not moved on from Lance. 


	16. Lance

Lance sits alone in the same booth at Sylvester's. His shimmery grey suit jacket is thrown haphazardly into the seat across from him, his tie on top of it, his shirt is unbuttoned far past decency. He’s drunk, and he had to get away from the people he had been with. He had left the club they’d been at alone. The flickering light of Sylvester’s sign made him yell at his cabbie to stop. The man had cursed up a storm wheeling the cab to a precarious stop by the curb. Lance had tossed him some money and stumbled his way towards the door. Susan was working and Lance had drunkenly thanked her, before bursting into tears. He had cried on her shoulder, his face pressed into her grease speckled shirt. He didn’t even know what he was crying over. He guessed everything. She had patted his back and then sat him down at the booth leaving only to return with a steaming cup of coffee. Lance wrinkled his nose at it, but she made him down it anyway. That had been hours ago. 

The sun is coming up now, and Lance is going to have to make his escape somehow, but his head is pounding, his mouth tastes like coffee and he has no inclination to move. Ever again. His cheek is sticking to the table, and he should be disgusted, but he isn’t. He just isn’t really feeling anything. Susan came by ten minutes ago sliding a cinnamon roll across the table in front of him. He’s eaten half of it, leaving the rest to wilt. He tracks the cars that pass with tired, sun irritated eyes. He flinches when one pulls into the parking lot. He closes his eyes and lets out a breath turning his face away from the window. He should have gone back to his room and slept, this hadn’t helped him. Nothing seemed to help him. Going home should have been a relief, but even then he was bombarded with the media calling him sleazy, or mentally unstable, which honestly he is, but that isn’t something the world needs to know. He spent most of his time sleeping in his childhood bed ignoring his phone and gorging himself on his mom's cooking. He relayed the story to Veronica who was rightfully disappointed. Lance was disappointed in himself, and disgust still coursed it’s way through him every time he thought about Keith.

He hadn’t cried during the retelling, but he did afterward. Curled on his tiny mattress his comforter bundled against his chest.

He hadn’t even been able to stay as long as he wanted to. He had traveled to London for the premier and then to Tokyo and then all the way back to L.A., where he never wanted to be again.

The door opens letting in the noise and rush of traffic. It stays open and Lance peels his eyelids open. Keith is standing in the door staring at him. He’s clutching a set of keys his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Lance just stares at him and sniffs, his eyes are filling with tears, because it’s the first time he’s seen Keith since that morning, and he looks like shit. Darks bags under his eyes, dull hair, and his eyes. A tear falls when Lance sees his closed-off wary eyes. They aren’t bright anymore. The tear drips off his face and onto the table. 

“Fuck,” Keith spits harshly before walking towards him. Susan comes out of the back, her mouth parting to greet the guest. He pivots and goes back the way she came. Keith’s pace doesn’t falter and Lance can only wait for him to get there. To rail in on him, scream at him. He closes his eyes and turns his face so his forehead is pressed against the table. He lets his tears fall, too tired to care. Keith is right there now, and Lance braces himself for the words, yelling the insults.

“What have you done to yourself asshole?” Keith’s voice is soft, “Lance?” he crouches by the table his keys jingling as he puts them onto the surface. “Lance, are you okay?”

This is worse, Lance decides. This is so much worse. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve Keith. What is Keith even doing? Why wasn’t he yelling at him, why was he acting like Lance is worth his care.

“Scoot over, and if you don’t I’ll make you.” Lance cracks his eyes and scoots over leaving room for Keith to slide in by him. Lance tries to turn away from him but Keith catches his face and gently raises his head. “The table is gross. Come on.” 

Lance lets Keith maneuver his head onto his shoulder. He notices Keith’s hesitation as he slides an arm around his shoulders, keeping Lance pressed against him.

“What happened? I thought you were dead when I walked in.” Keith talks quietly, his words gentle, his hand stroking subconsciously at Lance’s arm. He sniffs again, and Keith looks down at him, bringing a hand up to wipe at the tears dripping down Lance’s face.

“Why are you touching me?” Lance’s voice sounds like he swallowed a cheese grater. Keith shrugs, jostling his cheek.

“I’ll let go if you want me to.”

“N-no, it’s okay.”

They sit like that for a while. Lance’s eyes drift closed every once and a while, and Keith has pulled out his phone until Susan came around finally and he ordered a water and a cup of iced tea. Susan disappears for a little before coming back and sliding the two glasses onto the table. Lance glances up at her and she casts him a small smile before leaving again. Keith picks up the water.

“Drink this. You sound wrecked.” 

Lance sits up, his head spinning. He scrubs a hand over his face and takes the glass in trembling fingers. Keith makes sure he has a good grip on it before picking up his own drink. Lance drinks deeply, keeping his eyes on Keith, but enjoying the relief it brings his throat. Keith puts down his tea and Lance chokes swallowing wrong. Keith takes the glass from him as he hacks and coughs. His eyes are watering when he finally can breathe properly again. 

“Are you not mad at me?” his voice doesn’t sound much better. Keith raises an eyebrow at him sitting back against the booth crossing his arms.

“No. I’m still fucking pissed at you, and when I know that you aren’t going to die if you leave here, I’m going to eat my breakfast and go on about my day.”

“Why?”

Keith scoffs, “Because I have to go to class, and then work.”

Lance frowns hard at him sitting straighter a little bit of anger filling him.

“No, why the fuck did you do this then? Why are you holding me, making sure I’m alright. You hate me.”

Some life has come back into Keith’s eyes as they flash. “You can’t say that.”

“Yeah I can, who wouldn’t hate me? Besides, you said you were still pissed at me.”

Keith’s jaw flexes and Lance wonders if he should be worried again.

“Yeah well I tried to hate you if that makes you feel better, and I still fucking care about you even if that is damning and stupid.” he’s standing up. Taking their glasses with him and Lance panics. He’s flailing across the seat and grabbing the back of Keith’s jacket. He pauses and Lance drags himself out of the booth.

“Don’t leave. Please, Keith.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” he sounds bitter and Lance bites his lip, but then Keith’s shoulders slump and he’s turning around again. “I need an apology and a good explanation, and I’m angry and hurt so I’m probably going to say some mean shit to you, but I’ll listen Lance.”

Lance’s lips are trembling. “K-Keith, h-how can you even,” he trails off as Keith shakes his head.

“Not here. I’ve read the bullshit they’ve been writing about you. There is no need to expose yourself to any more of that.”

Lance has to turn away from him, his heart is fluttering and breaking at the same time, because how could he have let this go? Keith is touching his shoulder.

“I need to go now. I want to make sure that you’re going to be okay though.”

Lance nods reaching for his phone. It’s dead when he pulls it out. Keith hands him his own wordlessly.

“Hope you have someone's number memorized. I know no one does that anymore but…” he trails off and Lance takes the phone gratefully. Keith nods and swivels on his heel marching towards the register to pay for the tea.

Lance calls Ryan, apologizing over and over while thanking him for picking up a random number. When he’s done with the promise that Ryan was coming to get him Lance sent a text to his own phone from Keith’s. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The number of rewrites this went through makes me tired just thinking about it. 
> 
> Another short one, I apologize again my dear readers.
> 
> Things are starting to mend themselves though.
> 
> Also, Folklore is really good. I love Exile so much.
> 
> oh and My Tears Ricochet


	17. Keith

Keith is a fucking idiot. He has done nothing but make stupid reckless decisions when it came to Lance. His brain stops working every time he’s within a few feet of the other man. He yanks the sleeves of his dress shirt down around his wrists and buttons the cuffs. There’s movement all around him as everyone gets ready for the event they’re catering to. Some big event for a movie or something. They hadn't really given them specific details, and Keith wasn't really paying attention anyway. To anything. Just his stupid conversation with Lance earlier that morning. He scowls at himself in the mirror. What was he thinking? The amount of pain that Keith had felt seeing Lance’s slumped form at that booth tore through Keith like shrapnel. He just wanted Lance to stop looking like that, he just wanted Lance to look like himself again. Bright and lively, he had to hold him, had to let Lance know that he didn’t hate him and that he wanted to make amends. He hadn’t dared to say that he wants Lance, he wants them to be gross cliche boyfriends.

“Your shirt is buttoned wrong.” someone says as they pass. Keith looks down at his croaked buttoning. He grits his teeth and rebuttons it. He tugs on his hair, sharper then he needs to as he pulls it back. He needs to cut his bangs or all of his hair. He tugs harder growling at himself. He needs to get a grip. He’s going to be surrounded by people for the entire evening he needs his wits about him. He finally looks somewhat presentable after far too many minutes fighting with his appearance. He checks with the rest of the staff before jogging out to Curtis’s car. It’s thundering outside and the smell of ozone hangs thick in the dark air. Keith breathes it in deeply, closing his eyes for a brief second. 

It starts to rain as he drives to the venue, the sky breaking violently over him. His windshield wipers sway back and forth across his vision, making a thumping click every time then go from left to right. The city blurs around him and he reaches to turn off the radio. He can’t help but smile at the streaking rain that bleeds with the colors of the lights, turning the city into a kaleidoscope. It relaxes him and he leans back against the worn-out seat that smells like Shiro and Curtis's house, his knuckles stop pushing against the skin of his hands.

It’s over too soon and he’s turning into the gaudily lit venue. The posters that were at the entrance have long since been taken down to escape the rain but the frames remain. Keith ducks his head against the rain as he joins his colleagues. The truck that transported the food is backed up against the entrance to a brightly lit kitchen. The instructions are simple enough, get the food in without soaking it, and then be ready to wait the food when people finally start arriving. Keith is called up into the truck to move the large boxes. He smiles to himself as the man he’s with curses up a storm at the rain. Keith nods along when he inexplicably demands Keith’s opinion. He figures it’s better to go along with the man’s views, he’s never seen him before in his life.

After an hour of moving boxes and listening to the man rant, Keith is in a considerably less jovial mood. The wait staff is left lingering in the corner of the kitchen pressing against each other to avoid being in the way of the flurrying cooks. They had all been told to stay off the floor until they were explicitly needed. They’re wet and the women are huddled around each other touching up each other's makeup, wringing out their hair and worrying over their white shirts that stuck to their skin. Keith feels a headache starting at the back of his head, he rubs his temples and slumps against the wall. Ben an older staff member joins him.

“Ya know, the boss I guess is a pretty good guy, but we sure as hell don’t get any information.”

Keith snorts, “Yeah, I know. I wish they would tell us what exactly we were doing.”

Mariesal who seems to have gotten the brunt of the rain siddles up to them. “We aren’t important enough to know. You know?” she leans over to the rapidly filling mop bucket that was being used for them to wring out in. “We are the,” she squints up at a light, “ the  _ pieza de ajedrez.  _ The chess pieces.” she raises her dark eyebrows at them. Ben chuckles and Keith nods in solemn agreement.

“We’re even dressed to match the part.”

Everything but Keith’s socks are dry by the time they’re being snapped at to get ready. He had slumped to the floor after an hour of standing. They had started a game of cards, and Keith realized that he was very out of place in this tight-knit group of people. They were almost like family, and he felt like a friend that is slowly being accepted but isn’t enough to be in on inside jokes. He sat awkwardly as laughs were passed around, and knowing smiles were thrown over his head. He got the feeling they were laughing at him. So he was happy to be working. A tray of odd little cracker things. It looked like the shit he and Shiro used to make on the weekends when they would get free reign of the house. He doesn’t think they look like they should fit in the “gourmet” menu that the restaurant boasted.

Keith is told to follow after Jason who had a tray full of champagne flukes. Keith can see the sweat trickling down his temple. Keith wouldn’t trade places with him for a million dollars. He isn’t sure what to expect when he walks out of those swinging doors, but he braces himself none the less for whatever may happen.

He sees Lotor first. He stands out with his white hair and tall form. He sees Lance next, his arm looped with Lotor's, his eyes dipping around the room in lazy loops.

“Fuck,” Keith whispers, and Jason pauses tensing.   


“W-what is it?” he hisses over his shoulder at Keith, his eyes bugging out of his skull. Keith shakes his head frantically before they draw attention.

“Nothing, just go.”

Keith breaks away from him when they get a little too close to Lance for comfort. Jason sends a glare at him and Keith sends back an apologetic smile. He just cannot deal with Lance and Lotor together. If Lotor sees him he has no idea what would happen. Nothing good that he is sure of. Lance’s eyes drift towards him and he ducks behind a pillar, peeking out then scooting away when he sees Lance’s attention turned away from him. Lotor is handing him a flute of champagne. Keith winces as Lance drains it immediately. He turns away again handing a plate to a random woman, she startles but he moves on before she can say anything about it.

He continues in this fashion, ducking behind pillars, keeping his head down, handing people plates whenever he remembers he actually is supposed to be doing something. He was getting some weird looks but he could not let Lance see him. When he said that he was willing to hear Lance out he hadn’t meant when he was still reeling from seeing him again.

He’s made at least three rounds, sweating through his shirt and slightly out of breath. His tray is now full of empty dishes and he’s ready to make a blissful escape back into the kitchen. It’s a clear path all the way and he sets his gaze on it keeping his head turned slightly down. A flash of movement catches his eye as he gets to the door. He feels ice shoot through his veins when he looks up. The attention of the night has finally fallen away from Lance which Keith had been grateful for. It made the crowd disperse, putting more room between him and Lance. Now though Lotor has backed Lance against one of the pillars. Keith sneers because Lance is pushing against him his head turned away, tucking into himself as Lotor presses incessantly closer. That’s not going to fly with Keith, especially as no one seems to see Lance’s blatant distress.

The dessert course has started and Keith watches the trays of soft-looking chocolate cakes dusted in powdered sugar. He sends another glance at Lance and Lotor. Lance looks on the verge of tears. Lotor has Lance’s wrists in a death grip keeping his arms from moving, and Keith makes up his mind.

“Trade with me,” he whispers to the next person who is waiting to go out. She looks him up and down before shrugging and handing him the loaded tray. 

He doubles around, cutting off from the neat precession line with an,” oops I think I forgot something”. He makes a fool of himself trying to inconvenience as many people as physically possible. He gets glares and sneers, but it’s working. Everyone is dismissing him as an idiot who is most likely going to get fired. If Keith doesn’t get fired, he will get arrested he decides as he clumsily stumbles towards Lance and Lotor. He lets himself trip over air a few steps from Lotor and sends the tray flying with an exaggerated fling straight at him as he falls. The cake hits him square in the back and Keith watches as they split open. The hidden gooey insides spilling out, all over Lotor’s hair and pristine suit.

Lotor gasps stepping away from Lance and frantically trying to get the cake off of his suit and skin and hair. They had been full of melted drippy chocolate sauce, which Keith wasn’t expecting but was fully delighted by.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry! Let me help you!” Keith keeps his head down and pushes Lance a little harshly away from Lotor as he bends down to pick up an imaginary napkin. “I am so sorry I am such a klutz. The slightest little thing and oop I’m tripping. Here let me wipe that off for you”

He wipes at the brown stain on Lotor’s suit jacket, wrapping himself around Lotor’s front, creating a barrier between him and Lance, he jabbers the entire time about what a mess he is and how pressure gets to him. Lotor is trying to shake him off, eyes blazing with anger. Keith isn’t relenting though, performing an odd sort of dance with Lotor as they stumble around each other. Keith clinging to his suit and Lotor trying to brush him off. Lance isn’t moving far enough away and Keith grits his teeth. Finally, the whole situation has drawn the attention of important people. Keith lets himself back away from Lotor as he’s swarmed with apologizing hosts and worried-looking agents. He picks his tray back up and shuffles towards Lance. He grabs his hand pulling him towards the more populated areas of the floor.

“Are you okay?” he says quietly, keeping his head down, he squeezes Lance’s hand and Lance squeezes back. Keith bites his lip against a grin, but then a tall man with startling purple hair is hurrying towards them. Keith lets go of Lance’s hand turning to walk away.

“Keith, wait!” fingers snag his wrist and he’s panicking again because this is where everything goes wrong, because Lance had practically shouted his name, and Lotor wasn’t far behind him in the first place. He’s caught with lance’s hand around his wrist, and Lotor stomping towards him. All eyes are turned on them, Keith turning away from the brunt of their stares. He wishes his hair is done, just so it could act as a barrier between him and them. 

Lotor is in his face now and Keith has never felt so trapped. He tugs on Lance’s grip but he doesn’t seem to be relenting it any time soon.

“You miserable little bastard,” Lotor screams at him and Keith is surprised to hear the accent Lotor covers up for some reason. Keith thinks he sounds better with it. Not that he should be thinking about that as he is possibly on the verge of being arrested. Maybe he just doesn't care like he should. “How dare you touch my boyfriend!”

Lance’s grip on his wrist is painful. He pulls Keith away from Lotor tucking him neatly behind himself.

“I’m not your fucking boyfriend Lotor. You know it as well as I do. I closed that door when you treated me like a fucking prize.” Lance’s throat bobs as he says that and his eyelids flutter.

Lotor sneers at him, “Oh so you got tired of being told what to do so you got your own little plaything. Is that it? Is that all you needed?” Lotor jerks his chin at Keith who glowers back at him, “What do you think  _ that _ will bring you?”

The hall is so silent you could hear a pin drop. Keith’s throat is dry as bone and his heart is beating erratically in his chest. All eyes are still on them, all camera lenses are ready, probably already filming. 

“Happiness. And that’s worth more than any of your millions.” Lance spits at Lotor. Keith stares up at him. His heart feels like it’s going to burst. His stomach drops and it’s like he’s falling in love with Lance all over again.

Lance makes a decision than in the face of all those people, he takes Keith’s hand and walks calmly through the crowd. Towards the doors. Keith looks back over his shoulder. Miley gives him a grin amid all the gape-mouthed silence.

It’s still raining outside, maybe more than it had been before. Lance drags Keith out into it and wraps him in a hug. Keith hugs him back, and it feels like a part of him that had wiggled loose was falling back into place. Lance’s shoulders are shaking and Keith buries a hand in his hair pressing his face closer to his throat, rocking them gently. The rain beats on them, and Keith wishes Lance hadn’t chosen to charge into the deluge.

“I’m sorry Keith,” Lance sobs against his pulse, claws into the back of his dress shirt. Keith presses a butterfly soft kiss to his temple before pulling away. He cups Lance’s face and in the rain, he can’t tell what are tears and what aren't. He wipes Lance’s face of all liquid just to be sure.

“Come on.”

Keith leads him back to his car, thanking anything that was listening that he kept his keys with him. They get settled in the seat and Lance is wiping his face. He looks beautiful, Keith thinks. He reminds him of a watercolor painting at that moment. He shivers against the seat and Keith finally gets the presence of mind to turn on the heater. 

“Keith,” Lance starts but Keith holds up a hand.

“Don’t. If you say anything else I’m going to kiss you, and I’m still pissed. I still deserve an explanation.”

Lance looks down at his lap staring at his fingers, “I know. You do deserve it, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

Keith shrugs, “ I don’t know about that, now. I don’t know what you had in mind when we ran out into the rain, but I have an overly hot dorm room, a bed, and ramen calling my name. I think maybe yours too if you want to talk somewhere where we won’t catch a cold.”

“Keith,” Lance’s voice is different again, he sounds like he’s going to cry.

Keith wraps his hands around the steering wheel. 

“I don’t think I can promise you anything tonight Lance, but I want to listen, and I want to listen in my environment.”

Lance nods, “Of course. I love the sound of that.”

Keith juts his chin out and turns the car fully on. The windshield wipers resume their squeaking bumping musical, the raindrops leading the melody. Keith takes a breath then holds his hand out across the middle console.

Lance takes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, a fast update this time.
> 
> We are coming to the end. 
> 
> Only a little bit more.
> 
> A million and one thanks to everyone who reads, loves, and comments. You fuel me so much. You have no idea.


	18. Lance

Their palms are clammy where they’re pressed together, but Lance refuses to let go. He keeps his eyes on the speeding lights of the city, too afraid to look at Keith for longer than a few seconds. He can’t read his face as it flashes in the lights. He looks resolutely at the road never sparing a glance in Lance’s direction. But he shows no sign of letting go of Lance’s hand, so he lets himself find reassurance in that. 

He’s curled against the seat, shivering on and off even as the heater is hitting him full blast. He’s chilled to the bone, and he is positive it’s not just from the rain. He knows things will change after tonight. 

The dorm hall Keith lives in is multi-layered with long catwalks connecting the rooms. Keith finally lets go of his hand letting him get out of the car. Keith still doesn’t look at him as she steps out into the pouring rain, slamming the door behind him. Lance flinches, worrying filling him, but then Keith is jogging around to his side and Lance opens the door ducking his head against the storm.

“Come on,” Keith says, grabbing his elbow and hurrying them towards a slick-looking metal staircase. Their steps echo up the metal and Keith curses as he fights with his wet keys when they reach his door. Keith ushers him into the dark interior and Lance takes a few steps in before pausing. Keith shuts the door and squeezes past him grunting something about the overhead light not working. He flips a lamp on from his desk and then steps into the ensuite bathroom turning on that light as well. Lance looks around rubbing his arms up and down. The room is small and rundown. There’s a crack in the ceiling and the screen on the window is riddled with holes. Keith’s desk is also a disaster. Books are stacked precariously and papers are clinging to the edge. Only a small space has been made in the middle of the desk where a laptop sits. It’s covered in sticky notes with scribbling on it.  _ Check on Shiro,  _ is the most prominently repeated one. He is once again reminded that Keith is a fucking student. He has shit to do and Lance has caused him nothing but trouble since they met. Lance shivers tearing his eyes from Keith’s chaotic desk as he comes out of the bathroom.

“Here, I got you a towel, and I might have something you can wear.” Keith is holding a folded grey towel out for him. He’s changed out of his slacks and dress shirt. Replacing them with those same worn-out pajama pants and a shirt with a UFO on it sporting the words,  _ Get in Loser, We’re Doing Butt Stuff. _ Lance stares at it taking the towel. Keith wanders off to find him something to wear and Lance can’t stand the silence.

“Do I get a shirt like that?” he asks, smiling a little bit when Keith whirls around to look at him. He glances down at his own shirt and then at the one clutched in his hand.

“I mean, I guess,” Keith says shortly before turning back around and stuffing the shirt he had picked out back in. Lance frowns.

“I was kidding Keith. I just think it’s cu-funny that you have so many shirts like that.”

Keith doesn’t say anything. He marches back over to lance and shoves a bundle of clothing into his arms. “You can change in the bathroom.”

Lance feels like crying as he closes the door behind him. He feels banished. He can’t look at his reflection in the mirror, just shucks off his clothes and slips into Keith’s. They smell like him and are slightly too small. The pants ride high up on his ankles and the sleeves of the sweatshirt reveal his wrists, but they’re dry and warm. It’s more than Keith should have given him, more than he should have accepted. He almost doesn’t want to go back out there. He doesn’t want to talk about this. He can admit that to himself. He’s terrified of what will happen. Keith is mad, he can tell, and he has every right to be. Lance is just going to have to be prepared to leave and never see the anomaly that is Keith Kogane ever again.

He eventually works up the gull to step back out of the bathroom. Keith is leaning against the wall by the microwave, he’s yawning wide and hugely, his eyes watering after it’s over. Lance can’t help the smile that crosses his face.

“Keith, what should I do with my wet things.” he holds out his wet suit which is going to be a pain in the ass to get cleaned. He found some cake on it. The chocolate smearing into the dark blue fabric. Keith takes it from him and lays it out flat on the desk that is now more organized. If organized was half the mess being on the floor now. Keith’s clothes are also laid out. Lance stands awkwardly in the middle of his room and it takes Keith a while to notice.

“Uh, you can sit on the bed I guess,” Keith says, so he does. He sinks onto the mattress and turns his attention to the wall by Keith’s pillow. There are pictures hung clumsily in the wall with tape that is sure to damage them if Keith ever has to move them. There’s a few of Keith and a tall man grinning stupidly at the camera standing in front of an alien carved from wood. It reads,  _ ‘Happy 17th Keith! Roswell, Oct. 23’.  _ Lance smiles at it, his eyes moving to the one under it. Keith with his arms wrapped around a huge black dog. He’s holding the dog tag just so that the name doesn’t show like it was supposed to.

“That’s Kosmo if you were wondering.” 

Lance jumps and turns back to look at Keith who is standing by his bed holding two steaming cups of ramen. He hands one to Lance as well as a fork and sits down next to him.

“Thank you. Where is Kosmo now?”

Keith paused in blowing on his noodles, sticking the fork back into the cup so they wouldn’t fall off. “He died at the beginning of this year, and before you say anything, it’s fine. He was old and hurting. It’s better that he doesn’t have to deal with the pain anymore.”

He picks back up his fork and adverts his eyes. Lance looks down at the golden broth picking up his own fork. He blows on it as well, peering at Keith from the corner of his eye on and off. He eats his with a single-mindedness staring at the opposite wall. Lance wants to say something. Needs to say something. It’s all welling up in him, sitting on the back of his tongue, waiting, but it’s Keith who speaks first.

“Why did you leave me?” It's a simple question and Keith asks it with little emotion, but his jaw is ticking and his fingers are clenching in his fork. The question burns Lance, and he puts down his fork.

“Keith, I-I had to.” it flimsy and Keith scoffs at it.

“Okay, I understand that, but why didn’t you at least wake me up. Send me a text, wrote me a letter on a fucking letter napkin, anything. Lance, you left me alone! In a place, I had never been before!”

“You were capable of finding your way home, Keith.'' His voice is still weak and the anger that is filling Keith’s eyes as he whips his head towards him tells Lance that he has made nothing better.

“You  _ fucked me _ and left. I felt like I was nothing more than a body for you to use.” he looks like he might hit something and Lance leans back slightly. “ You called me beautiful. Y-you,” he’s looking away now. Teeth clamped harshly on his bottom lip. “You made me feel loved, and then you tore that all away, leaving me the fool.”

Lance is crying silently, the tears dripping steadily down his face. He doesn’t know what to say, but he supposes that’s fine as Keith isn’t done yet.

“It would have hurt if you had told me to fuck off, but at least I would feel like you cared. It would have hurt when I finally found out about your boyfriend, but at least I could pretend you cared.” his voice cracks sharply and he looks further away from Lance. “Was anything real?”

Lance is lunging across the bed, gripping Keith’s shirt making him look at him.

“Everything was fucking real, and that’s what terrified me. Keith I was never supposed to see you again, much less do the things I did with you. 

Keith grips his wrist, his bloodshot eyes staring into Lance’s.

“Help me understand. Please.”

Lance nods and Keith’s fingers slide from his wrist until their palms are pressed together.

“I was so happy when I woke up with you that morning, I felt like I was finally in the right place. That you were what had been missing in my life. It felt so right, you feel so right, but I realized when I saw the shit that was going on with Lotor that I didn’t want you.” Keith’s fingers clench and Lance clamps their hands together tightly before they can slip away. “ I didn’t want you to be a part of my fake smiles and publicity stunt life. I wanted you to be a part of a life I can’t have. So I did something I can never forgive myself over, I left you because I know how much that fucking hurts.” His cheeks are wet again and he bends over Keith’s hand pressing a kiss to the top of it. “And I am so sorry.”

“Did you love me?” Keith asks and his voice sounds distant. Lance looks up at him through his lashes.

“I still do.”

Keith closes his eyes, “You fucking piece of shit. What made you think that running was a good idea? I fucking love you too Lance McClain. You should have asked me, you shouldn’t have assumed that I wasn’t willing to fight for you. Because it isn’t just you Lance, you make me feel right.”

“Keith, Keith you don’t understand. You will never be left alone if we become a thing. People will constantly be trying to invade your privacy. I can’t do that to you.”

Keith snorts, “Lance, I don’t give two flying fucks about what people say. I want you, and I’m willing to deal with whatever comes with it.  _ I want you. _ The only question is, do you want me?”

“Keith, why wouldn’t I want you? I think you made me realize that I actually had no idea what falling in love felt like.”

Keith snorts, “It fucking sucks that’s for sure.”

Lance is being pulled into Keith’s arms. Keith kisses his hair. “I’m not going to lie to you Lance, you hurt me really badly, and I still don’t know what is up with you and Lotor, but I want to forgive you and I can.”

Lance nods into his neck. “I hated myself,” he whispers, “I hated myself so much, Keith. I was no better than him.”

“I don’t want you to hate yourself, you shouldn’t. You are too good to hate yourself.”

Lance opens his mouth to argue but Keith presses a soft finger to his lips. 

“I don’t want to hear it, Lance. You’re worth forgiveness.”

Lance buries his face in Keith’s shoulder and he lays them down on his bed.

“I have so much more to explain. I don’t feel like I did justice for all the pain I caused you.”

Keith hummed and he sounded exhausted. He had looked exhausted.

“Mmmm, it’s raining right now and I’m warm. Tomorrow only the smell of petrichor will remain and you can tell me then.”

Lance’s laugh is wet and soft but he has never agreed with a statement more. It is raining, offering the perfect rhythm for sleep. His heart is pressed against Keith’s and they beat in tandem. He’s happy, it’s going to be hell when he has to go back, but he thinks he’ll be able to survive it this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was debating on having this be the last chapter, which I might still go with and then have an epilogue, but I feel like Keith deserves an entire explanation, and Lance needs to know that Keith is willing to fight for him. A few overbearing fans aren't going to get in the way of his man.
> 
> I also wanted to close this out with a Keith chapter as it started with. 
> 
> Welp. I think I just made up my mind.
> 
> It's not lance's birthday, anymore but he was on the brain while writing this. (Obviously)
> 
> I love it when you leave kudos, and comments. It makes me feel like the stupid mistakes I find after rereading aren't that bad.


	19. Keith

The bed he wakes up in is fucking hard, but the arms wrapped firmly around his waist make up for it. He can feel Lance’s breath fanning over the back of his neck, but he still shifts to look over his shoulder, just to make sure. He’s there. Face pressed into Keith's back arms encasing him. Hair downy soft and glenting in the tiny bit of sunlight coming in through the window. Normally Keith would give anything for his window to face away from the sun, but lance looks like an angel and he doesn’t mind it all that much.

He’s content in a soft sated kind of way. He lets himself lay back down with Lance. Curling against his chest and burying his face in his pillow. He smiles as Lance’s arms tighten around him. He isn’t planning on going anywhere until he wakes up. His alarm clock reads six-thirty so he lets himself fall back asleep.

He’s woken up again by Lance kissing his shoulder. He blinks the blurriness out of his eyes and flips around to face him.

“You know I’d much rather you kiss something else.” Keith rasps at him, his voice heavy from sleep. Lance blushes full red but presses a deep kiss to Keith’s lips, his hands coming up to tangle in Keith’s hair, scratching against his scalp. It pulls a deep groan from Keith’s chest and he grips Lance’s hips eliciting a gasp from his lips, his breath fanning against Keith’s lips. He pulls away though panting slightly as he looks up at Keith.

“I think we should sort everything else out before we go any further. I don’t want to make the same mistake twice.”

Keith nods and sits up dragging Lance with him, “I think that’s a good idea. Do you want to just talk, or do you want me to ask questions.”

Lance shifts a little uncomfortable against him, “Well I know you have a lot of questions so maybe we should do it that way?”

“Okay. So are you and Lotor actually dating?”

Lance sighs long and deep and it seemed to take all the strength out of him. He slumps against Keith who in turn slumps against the wall. His shoulder coming close to tearing down the picture of his mom. He inches the other way.

“No. Me and Lotor are not dating. We did when I first got into the business. He was nice and I had no idea how anything worked. I had no friends, plus he made me feel like I was special doing something right.” Lance squeezes his eyes shut his breath shuddering. Keith turns around to look at his face.

“Lance, what’s wrong?”

“Keith,  _ fuck _ , I treated you the exact same way he treated me. T-that day, I called you panicking? It was because of him and you, you made it better, and then I,  _ fuck. _ ”

Keith isn’t sure what to do, what to say, but Lance is close to crying again and he’s shaking. “Lance.” Lance shakes his head.

“No. No, I need to tell you this completely.” he takes a deep breath, and Keith shutes up. “ Lotor has been a black spot in my life since I broke up with him. Hunk Garrett helped me out of the situation, made me see that I was being treated like a piece of shit. I thought I was done with him the day a told him to fuck off and handed him back the Rolex watch he had given me, but he seemed to take pleasure in sexually harassing me at every chance he got. Nothing bad, but possessive gross things in public.”

“Why the fuck was he allowed anywhere near you? Why didn’t you get a restraining order?”

“The same reason I left you alone in that hotel room and didn’t deny whether we were dating or not. The break up was never announced to the public so people thought that we were still a thing. I didn’t get a restraining order on him because I knew if that went public I would never hear the end of it. I didn’t want to be seen as someone who needs protection from someone like Lotor.” Lance turns to Keith, takes his hands into his. “He would fuck me, leave me in whatever house or hotel room we were in, make me feel like a was a plaything. I-I can’t believe I did that to you.” he moans the last part, his eyes squeezing shut, a tear finally making it’s way down his cheek.

“Lance, Lance,” Keith says working his hands out of Lance’s grip to wipe the tears off of his face. “Calm down, it’s going to be okay. We’re okay.”

“We are?” Lance asks, his eyes still closed his voice reedy. 

Keith laughs slowly, “I mean I still am having trouble understanding your exact motives for leaving me but have to admit I wished I had done more than dump cake on Lotor. A solid punch to his perfect fucking jaw sounds a little better.”

Lance is staring at him, tears still sliding down his face. Keith continues to wipe them away, offering a thin smile to Lance, “What? Why are you just staring at me?”

“Keith, can we do this? Can we try? Please? I want to try.”

It surprises him the question but he nods because yes. Yes, a thousand times  _ yes _ .

“I told you I would fight for you, Lance. Let’s try.”

They stay in bed until Keith can’t ignore the half-finished paper that is laying on his floor. Lance gets up with him stretching, and Keith finally allows himself to admire Lance in his clothes. They move around the small room, cleaning it up and pressing their hands against their clothes. Keith sees the smudge of brown on Lance’s coat and he can’t help but feel a little smug about it. He sits down at his desk which is more orderly then it had been since he moved into the dorm room. Lance crawls back under the covers. Keith bites his lip looking down at his loopy handwriting, this is barely the rough draft and he feels so insecure about it. He listens to Lance shuffle around in the bed and some of that same awkwardness that had been there when they first talked was creeping back into his mind. He turns around in his chair to look at Lance.

“Uh, you can leave if you want. This is not going to be very entertaining. You’re just going to see me cuss at a paper for like an hour.”

Lance laughs, shaking his head, “Nope. I’m not going anywhere, buddy. No matter how boring watching you cuss at a paper is going to be.”

Keith frowns at him, “never call me buddy again. Not after you fucked me then confessed your love to me.”

Lance laughs at him again reaching over Keith’s pillow to grab his phone. “I am in no hurry to leave. I should, however, send confirmation to Ryan and Thace that I’m not dead. Oh, and how does Ihop sound? I’m paying”

“It sounds really good actually, I’ll have an omelet, and who is Thace?”

Lance looks up at him and smiles all teeth till the dimple that is normally hidden pops out, “He's my new agent. He was the guy with purple hair last night.”

Keith nods, he vaguely remembers the guy.

“So you got rid of Honerva?”

“Yup, “ Lance says, popping the ‘p’ and looking down at his phone. “I’m glad I did. I don’t think I would have been able to face you again if I hadn’t. She was like a roadblock.” he says softly and Keith can’t help but stand up and cross the small distance to him pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“You deserve a good agent.”

Lance ends up entertaining himself by going through the stacks of books on the floor. Keith lets him do it, falling back into explaining something about chemical equilibrium that he doesn’t understand. He decides it is one of those essays that you don’t reread except to fix grammar and spelling errors. He’s almost positive he’s repeated certain paragraphs over and over.

“Hey, Keith? What’s this?” Lance asks. Keith turns around to see what he’s holding up. He has his book in his grip. Keith feels his heart fall as Lance flips through the mix of typed and handwritten pages. There are about two hundred pages, but most of them are unfinished or chapters that he rewrote. He kept the originals and all the rewrites, just because he couldn’t tell what sounded better. The whole thing was a massive convoluted mess.

“It’s nothing. Just a thing.” Lance raises an eyebrow at him looking up at him.

“It doesn’t look like nothing or “just a thing.” It looks like something you’ve put a lot of work into.

Keith sighs and gets up, settling onto the floor next to him, he holds out his hands and Lance slides the mass of papers into them.

“It really isn’t going to ever be anything of importance. It’s just a book? I started?” Keith cringes at himself. “A-anyway, it’s not going anywhere, I’ve been thinking about throwing it out.”

Lance gasps, “Keith you can’t get rid of this. You must have spent so much time on it.”

Keith shrugs, “Nah, most of it was written in the middle of class anyways. Besides, I don’t think I have the time to write a book anymore.”

Lance pouts, “Fine, if you don’t want to finish it then don’t, but don’t throw it out. Okay?”

Keith sighs but smiles at him, “Okay.”

An hour later Lance has fallen back asleep which Keith thinks is a good thing because he had looked exhausted. His eyes and hand hurt from drawing diagram he didn’t understand and having to rewrite the word  _ equilibrium,  _ over and over because he spelled it wrong so many times and Keith’s brain would allow him to not fix it. There’s a knock at the door and Keith looks up groaning. Breakfast must be here. He shakes Lance awake and goes to the door. He looks down at himself, his shirt is every kind of inappropriate and he knows his hair is a disaster, but it's food so he really shouldn’t care. It’s not food.

It’s Shiro. Wearing jeans and a clean t-shirt looking at Keith worriedly. He has both arms and his prosthetic looks clean and like he just got back from a check-up. Which he had, it was the second Saturday of the month.

“Fuck Shiro I’m so sorry. I completely forgot.” he felt awful, he had gone with Shiro to every appointment. Shiro squints at him, jingling his keys in his flesh hand.

“You could have at least called me? Or texted you know?” 

Keith winces, “I-I know, Shiro, I feel so bad.”

Shiro goes back to just watching him, jingling his keys all the while. The tension between them is broken by Lance coming up behind Keith.

Keith whats oh, who’s this?”

Shiro’s eyes widen, flying between the two before they settle coldly on Lance.

“I’m Shiro, Keith’s brother.”

Lance’s eyes widen and Keith opens his mouth to smooth the situation over but Shiro is talking over him.

“You’re the one that treated Keith like shit yeah?” Shiro’s voice is hard and void of emotion. Keith swallowed.

“Shiro,” he said, but Shiro held up his hand to silence him.

“What is he doing with you, Keith? What the fuck?” he wasn’t even looking at Keith, his eyes trained on Lance.

“Shiro,” Keith tries again, louder this time, watching Lance shrink away from him. Shiro seemed to grow when he was facing someone down. Keith knew from too many lectures. He didn’t really grow but he did loom. “If you would please listen I can explain.”

Shiro turns to look at him sharply, “Explain what?!” he exclaimed, but then his voice dropped and his face turned sad. “Keith, don’t do this to yourself again. If you needed help you should have come to me.”

Keith blinks at him, hurt filling him. Shiro was comparing Lance to alcohol. When he would drink himself silly over the stupidest things. When he would think the solution to the problem was to drink more. It hurt a lot. Especially from Shiro who had helped him every step of the way, who had trusted him when Keith had told him he wouldn’t ever do anything like it again.

“Shiro,” he hadn’t meant for his voice to be as fragile as it is. Shiro’s face falls a little bit and he keeps his mouth shut so Keith figures he might as well keep talking. “Shiro,” he doesn’t know how to say this. “Um, this is Lance, my boyfriend.” he can’t help the look he shoots Lance.

Shiro’s head is turning between them, sending pleading looks at Keith as if he can’t believe what an idiot his brother is. “Keith.” it’s full of warning and apprehension. 

Keith grits his teeth. He grabs Shiro’s elbow, turning to Lance, “I’m going to talk to him for a little. Please excuse us for a bit.”

Lance nods his head ducking back into the room and closing the door behind him. 

Keith turned on Shiro viscously, “ Shiro what the fuck?” he hisses trying to keep his voice down for the sake of Lance and his neighbors. Shiro looks so taken aback it’s almost funny.

“ _Me_ what the fuck? No Keith, _you_ what the fuck? Why is he in your room, why is he even anywhere near you?”

Keith huffs, “Why do you care so much? You didn’t really seem to care when I told you.”

Shiro frowns deeper, “I care because I watched you work yourself to death trying to forget that same exact boy that's in your room!” Shiro has matched his tone of voice whisper shouting. “Keith you literally were so torn apart! I was on the other end of the phone you know when you were breaking down over him. I thought you were past these destructive tendencies. What are you expecting?”

Keith clenches his hands into fists because Shiro is right. The stupid insecurity that Lance will realize that Keith isn’t what he wants isn’t right for him. His hands relax and he brings them up to wrap around his chest. “I know Shiro. I  _ know _ , but I’m in love with him Shiro and you’re more right then I want you to be. I might have done something stupid, but fuck Shiro. We talked and while I still don’t understand exactly why he left, I understand more and,” Keith raises his hands and tugs on his hair. “This has all been too good, too right. I-I want him Shiro, more than I’ve ever wanted anything, but.”

He slides down the wall, letting himself plop onto the metal grate beneath him, “I want us to be fine. But what if that’s not possible?”

Shiro is crouching in front of him, taking his hands away from his hair where he’d been pulling it savagely.

“Keith, Keith look at me?” he does out from under his bangs. Shiro smiles at him, but there is still a wrinkle between his eyebrows. “ I shouldn’t have compared Lance to that other thing the way I did.” 

Keith snorts and rubs a hand under his nose, “You can say I was an alcoholic Shiro. I was.” Shiro smiles sheepishly before it falls into seriousness again.

“I was worried Keith, so worried. I didn’t want you to ever feel the way I did when Adam,” he breaks off his eyes falling before he takes a deep breath and looks back up at him. “I was,  _ am _ , so angry that someone had made you feel that way. Especially someone that made you so happy. And before you say anything, no you were not subtle at all. You were like a different person.”

Keith sighs his head falling forward, “he makes me happy Shiro. So happy.” a pause longer than it should be because he doesn’t want to ask it. “Do I need a reality check? Is this stupid? Am I being blinded by the glitz and glam of L.A.?”

Shiro blows out a long breath running a hand through his hair, he has that habit almost as much as Keith does. He just won’t admit it. 

“Do you see lance as glitzy and glammy? I have no idea what you know about him, but do you think it’s the “magic” of L.A. making you see this whole thing through rose-colored glasses?”

Keith sighs and looks up again, “No. No, I don’t. I’ve seen him at some pretty bad times.” Keith scrubs a hand over his face, “I wish you hadn’t made him feel like that. He already hates himself for everything that’s happened.”

Shiro rubs his hands together and sighs. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. You are going to introduce me properly to your boyfriend. I am going to passively-aggressively threaten him with bodily harm if he ever hurts you again, and then we are going to eat breakfast because I stopped the Uber Eats guy from beating me up here.”

“The fuck Shiro,” Keith laughs, taking the hand Shiro holds out to him. He pulls him up with a grin and then looks over the railing.

“Yup, he just left it there. Sorry Keith, but you have a microwave, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue is all that's left. It's gonna be a little different from the rest of the story but, it. would. not. leave my brain.
> 
> Shoutout to my commenter who made me bring Shiro back into the game. I hope this is suitable.😂


	20. Epilogue: Thirty Miles NorthEast of Taos NM, Somewhere in the Carson National Forest

Lance is leaning against the dryer letting it hum against his back and he listens to the soft patter of Keith’s clothes as they fall around and around. They hadn’t even been wet, but Lance thought that Keith would appreciate warm pajamas when he got home. He has a mug of pine tea which he had fallen in love with after Keith had tentatively offered it to him.

“I have no idea if you’ll like this but my dad loved it.” He watched Lance his pink lip gripped between his teeth as he took a cautious sip. It smelled strong but it was a nice aroma. It had tasted just as amazing.

“Keith, Keith holy shit this is amazing.”

Keith had laughed and poured himself a mug. 

He was alone right now, he had been for most of the day. They had gotten up that morning, Keith stoking the fire in the big room while Lance sat huddled on the couch watching him.

“There is definitely a storm coming. I’m gonna run into town before it hits, grab a few more essentials, maybe stop at the post office before the holidays. Do you want to come?”

“Nah, I think I’m gonna try gingerbread today.”

He was yet to get back and by now the snow was falling hard enough that the trees were no longer visible and the window panes were covered in white. Lance had spent the day making cookies and pulling down the reserves of blankets Keith had told him about. He had made their bed up in the loft layering it with the blankets shivering as the temperature started to fall with the snow. He was done now and freezing, he pulled on fuzzy socks and one of Keith’s sweaters and stoked the fire to keep it burning. He felt the icy northern New Mexican wind blow through his skin to his bones and all he could think about was Keith getting stuck on the road up or not even being able to get in. Instead of worrying he turned on the tree letting the golden light fill the living room and filter out to glisten in the snow. He found a Christmas album of quiet carols and let them play filling the silent cabin.

He had sat in the ambiance loving every second of it, loving how much the room looks like a cliche Christmas movie but Keith had already said that he loved cliches. The trip had taken a lot of begging on Lance’s part. Keith was a senior that year and he didn’t want to jeopardize anything, but sitting in Shiro and Curtis’ living room, sinking into their worn couch Lance was able to convince him.

“Keith, you took me to see my family. Let me take you home.”

Keith had taken him to see his family, and it had been a huge surprise. A late-night after they had spent far too many months apart, lance had shown up at Keith’s apartment, tired and plane sick. Keith had shown him the tickets he had purchased for a round trip to Miami.

Lance had found it funny that Keith had been the one to put the trip into place, yet he was a sweating ball of nerves as they drove up the palm tree-lined road.

“Lance maybe you should just go. I mean they probably only want to see you. I’ll go find a hotel room or something.”

It had been the most ridiculous thing that Keith had ever said, and he had said a lot of ridiculous things in the year and a half Lance had been with him. Lance stopped driving, got unbuckled, and leaned against the middle console to grab Keith’s cheeks in his hands.

“You listen to me Keith and you listen well. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Keith grabbed his wrists and frowned.

“Lance I know you-”

“No.” Lance interrupted him pressing a finger to his lips, “Listen to me. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. “He ignores the eye roll he gets. “And my family will fucking love you. My mom already wanted to fly to L.A. just to hug you after I fucked up. They. Will. Love you. Okay?” Keith still looked unsure. “Please let me share them with you?”

They had loved Keith. Even when he was freaked out by the numerous toddlers, got lost in the endless Spanish flying around, and cast the entire table into silence with his brutal honesty. 

They had spent the night pressed together in Lance’s childhood bed, so close that Keith was tipping off the edge. It had been perfect and meant so much to Lance that he would repeat it over and over just as it had been. Keith’s kisses were softer in his room, his words were sweeter, his hands gentler. It was like he was trying to make himself gently settle into the background so Lance could be with his family. 

They’d learned a lot about each other over the three years they had been together Lance muses sipping his tea and glancing over his shoulder to see what the timer on the dryer was at. Keith was complex and more open then he appeared, there were only truly a few things he found hard to talk about. Things that Lance had learned when Keith was at his most vulnerable, pressed against Lance’s chest, his breath fanning across his neck. Keith carries the shame of his teenage years like a toddler carries a favorite blanket. The fights he got into, the smoking and drinking he did, the families he didn’t even let try. If anything the fact that Keith went through all that shit and still became the beautiful man he is now, makes Lance love him more.

Keith has learned about Lance's bitter dislike of his dad that he is ashamed of and terrified of the media finding out. He learned more about Lance's depression and the major burnouts he goes through. They weren't perfect, they struggle to work around their schedules sometimes. Keith has yet to get a break from Lances fans or the media. When they came out publicly there was a mix of acceptance, anger, and misunderstanding. Keith had pushed Lance to do something about Lotor and Lance was still working through that with his lawyer and Thace.

Things were good though. When they were able to meet Lance had helped Keith move into his apartment. They had spent the night on the floor surrounded by boxes eating sandwiches that Shiro had left. They laughed at how he had managed to make even simple ham sandwiches gross. Lance watched Keith toss his head back and laugh, which should have been disgusting with a half-chewed chunk of sandwich in his mouth but wasn't. 

"What?" Keith had asked self consciously when he finally noticed that Lance was staring at him like an idiot.

"Nothing. It's nothing, I'm just so fucking happy that you're mine."

He had yet to get used to Keith blushing. 

Keith had constantly referred to his cabin as a shack, so when Lance had begged him to take a trip out to it he had been expecting a shack. Dirty, small, maybe missing a few windows. It was nothing like that though. 

The trip out to it had been long and Lance had slept through most of the New Mexican landscape, curled up in the passenger seat lulled by Keith’s surprisingly good voice sing Christmas carols, that fought through heavy static on the radio. He was jolted awake as the car bumped over a dirt road. He sat up grimacing at the drool that had slipped passed his lips while he slept. Lance gaped as he looked out the window. They were in a white forest, huge trees draped in sparkling snow, the ground covered completely. Keith smiles over at him, and Lance can’t help the joy that jumps in his chest. The pure feelings of warmth and rightness he feels.

The cabin is not a shack. It’s beautiful. Made from huge logs with a gracious porch that wraps around the front of the house, a large picture window hung with wind chimes and hummingbird feeders. The roof peaks into a sharp A shape and floor to ceiling windows that tapered to points at the top gave Lance a view of the dark interior. It looked like a cabin from a magazine and Lance fell in love with it instantly. He steps out into the snow, the cold air making him suck in a breath. Keith is standing a few feet away, his hands on his hips.

“Hope the chimney isn’t clogged, it’s fucking cold,” he said, his breath fogging in the air, he turns to look at Lance when he doesn’t say anything. “Lance, you uh, you good.”

Lance shook his head before pausing and nodding, “Keith this place is beautiful.” Keith smiles at him and turns to look back at his home.

“ It wasn’t the architecture that made it ugly to me Lance.” He holds out his hand and Lance slides his hand into his, “Maybe we can make it beautiful again.”

The interior was just as beautiful, rustic without dead animals all over the place, he points it out to Keith and his grins a little, “My mom was a hippy Lance. My dad stopped hunting because of her.'' His words are all fond and Lance sets out to find a picture of Keith’s mom. A little secret mission for himself, unsure how Keith would respond if he outright asked him. They have to dusk but most of the furniture was covered by sheets and it saved them the hassle of having to dusk everything. Lance is more relieved then he should be when Keith flips a switch and the interior lights up with soft golden light.

“I did some work on it the year I lived out here. Installed lighting and a new water system,” he says as he moves past Lance to peer into the chimney. He mumbles something and scours around the room for a broom. Lance turns away and looks up the wood staircase into a loft. It’s still dark up there, but his curiosity has been peaked. He climbs the stairs carefully holding tight to the thick round rail. He jumps when his hand lands on a different texture. He fumbles around with it realizing it’s a light switch by the second pass of his hand. The light comes on and Lance feels his breath catch.

The loft is large, spanning most of the roof area, and the tapered windows continued up past it. In the center sits a huge bed. Sheet covered intriguing Lance to lift it to look at the bed frame. It looks homemade. The wooden head and footboard are rougher than they normally would be and clearly carved from rough-hewn timber. It’s beautiful and Lance wants to sleep in it with Keith.

“Dad made it for mom's birthday the year before I was born.”

Lance jumps, dropping the sheet and turning sheepishly towards Keith who’s standing on the top step surveying the golden lit room.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind you looking.” he laughs a little as he throws the sheet back completely. He ducks down and runs his fingers along the bottom of the bed frame, he motions Lance down with him. “I found a sharpie one day.” 

Dark swaths and chaotic scribbles decorate the wood and Lance mourns the loss of the beautiful natural color. 

“Keith, how could you?” he pouts, shoving Keith playfully. He falls back laughing even though Lance didn’t push him hard enough to.

“Well, I was little, and mom and dad carved their names into the wood outside on the east side of the house. I thought I could do the same and hey, the bed looked the same.”

They work together to make up the bed, Lance’s chest filling with warmth over the domesticity of it all. The sheets and heavy blankets smell like wood smoke and pine, they smell like Keith and Lance could bury his face in them for the rest of his life. He wants to get into the bed immediately, especially as he realizes how cold the cabin really is, but they need to get their things from the car, and Lance had a call with Thace in an hour. Keith looks up at the yellow and blue sky breathing in deeply, he catches Lance’s hand as he walks past.

“Thank you, Lance. I don’t think I realized how much I wanted to come home.”

Lance pressed a kiss to his cheek, “of course, starlight. The forest fits you well.”

Keith had chuckled, his eyes bright and dark against the white of the snow, to Lance though all of him was glowing. 

“Speaking of starlight, I don’t think it’s gonna snow tonight. Let’s see if I’m as biased as you think I am.”

The sky was clear that night, and Keith led him out onto the balcony Lance hadn’t noticed, hot tea and blankets in his arms. They settled onto the freshly clean wooden slates. Free of snow but still cold. Lance leans against Keith and he throws a blanket over them. Lance gets comfortable and looks up into the sky. Keith had taken him back to the planetarium in L.A. several times, many at Lance’s request. He had never seen stars as bright and real as the ones Keith generated for them, at least until now. The stars are as close and cool as the winter air around them. He lets out a breath, it frosts into the air and Lance notices how bright the stares are making the forest around them. The stars all alone, are making the snow gleam in thousands of tiny ice crystals. Cream splashes across the sky and it’s the brightest Lance has ever seen the milky way. Even brighter than the stars at the planetarium.

“No,” he breathes, “ No I don’t think you’re biased.

Keith lights the fire when they get back inside, both numb and shivering. Lance settles on the couch tossing the cold through blanket onto the back of the couch. He watches Keith strike up ablaze, the house feeling with that sharp pine scent, pitch popping creating a perfect crackle. He slips off of the couch and settles onto the floor by Keith. The warmth from the flames is enough to thaw him. He nudges his nose into Keith’s neck and presses a kiss to his pulse point.

“I want to make love you in front of this fireplace Keith,” he sighs into his ear, relishing the shiver that shakes up Keith’s spine. Keith turns to him, matching Lance’s own heavy-lidded gave with desire dark ones of his own.

“Let me get a blanket.”

Lance blushes darkly as he thinks about that night. Smiling as he sips his tea, the timer on the dryer goes off startling him and he frowns out the window again. Reluctantly starting in on a shorter cycle and walking out to the living room. He had found a picture of Keith’s mom the second day they went through the house looking for potential damage or unwanted vermin. Keith looked near identical to her. He had his dad’s strong jaw though, but everything after that was all her. Even the look in her eyes as she smirks at the camera, her fly away black hair caught up in a faded yellow bandana. Keith had smiled sadly at the picture and let Lance put it on the mantle. It was there now, along with a Christmas card Shiro had sent them. Keith had shaken his head when he came out of the post office with it, but he set it with reverence onto the mantel.

He checks the cookies in the oven, he had done something wrong, he knows he did. Their flat and lifeless, and might have to be used as tree ornaments, again. There were already two dozen failed gingerbread hanging from the boughs of their evergreen. Right alongside that stupid ornament that Keith smugly pulled out of his pocket as they decorated the tree. Lance had hoped he would have forgotten. It’s existence haunted him every Christmas. Keith makes sure it’s the first thing on the tree after the lights. 

He had called Hunk several times asking what to do on the third burned batch. Apparently extra flour was needed in higher altitudes to make the cookies cook properly. He might have forgotten to put it in this time, he muses. He sighs placing his near-empty mug into the sink and leaning against it. He can see the remnants of his and Keith’s snowman just barely over the drifts. Maybe he should have gone with Keith. Then he could have at least been with him if he got stuck. His mind is spiraling into all of the worst possibilities and he’s tempted to walk out in his snow boots to find Keith when he pulls up. 

Lance tears out of the kitchen flinging open the door and running onto the porch, his feet freezing as they melt patches in the snow layered boards. He waves enthusiastically as Keith pops out of the car. He’s smiling and he hurries to the back returning after a bit, his arms loaded with bags. He hurries onto the porch and Lance makes grabby hands at him, pulling him into a kiss.

‘What took you so long?” lance asks, taking a bag from Keith and heading into the house, making a mental note to clean up the ice water he trails in. Keith grunts as he struggles to remove his boots and keep his balance at the same time.

“I uh, was looking for something. It took longer than I thought it would.” he casts a small smile at Lance and ducks past him into the kitchen. Lance narrows his eyes at him but follows anyway. They stock the fridge and Lance pauses as he peers into a bag.

“Keith, darling, sweetheart, lovely, starlight. Why did you get a twelve-pound turkey?” he looks over at Keith who peers at him from behind the door of the fridge. He looks disgruntled from all the pet names and then sheepish as he sees the bag Lance has. Lance raises an eyebrow at him and he licks his lips.

“Well I thought you could call up Hunk and he’d help us prepare it for Christmas dinner?”

Lance smiles, “Keith, there are two of us. This thing can feed a family of eight.”

Keith sighs and closes the fridge, “Yeah I know, that’s why I got it. I figured we might not be getting out of here for a while. I thought we could use the extra you know?”

Lance grins and presses a sloppy kiss to his cheek, “that’s a brilliant idea, Keith, now we just have to not burn it.”

They both look hesitant at the bird. Lance was okay at cookies and Keith was okay at beverages, but neither was very good at making actual food. They shrug at each other and deposit the turkey into the freezer.

“We’ll call Hunk,” Lance says. The dryer goes off and he drags Keith towards it, “We’ll put everything else away later. Come snuggle me.” he pulls out Keith’s pajamas and hands them to him. Keith takes them, pressing them against his face and humming.

“Love you, Lance,” he says and Lance preens. They end up going up to the loft. Keith changes and Lance locates the remote that Keith moved constantly. It was under the rump of his hippo, Lance rolls his eyes as he digs it out. His attention is drawn from finding something to watch as Keith lets out a long moan as he pulls on his shirt. Lance smiles smugly.

“That nice huh?” he asks and Keith responds by sliding under the covers and into lance’s waiting arms.

Finding a Christmas present for Keith is hard every year. The guy never knows what he wants, and Lance never knows what to get him that will be useful, which is why he is currently hiding in the pantry having a hushed conversation with Shiro over the phone.

“I don’t know what to get him, Shiro!” He pauses and listens for approaching footsteps and lets out a breath when they go int the opposite direction. Shiro sighs.

“Maybe just being there for him is good enough.”

“That only worked the first Christmas.” Lance admonished reaching up to toy with a ristra that was hanging from a shelf.

“I never know what to get him either! Normally I give him a gift card or something.” Shiro sounds exasperated, “Why don’t you just say that the trip out there was his Christmas present. Keith isn’t one to get offended or hurt over stuff like this.”

Lance groans and falls back against the wall, “I know that Shiro, but I think he’s planning something big. He’s been acting fucking weird lately.” there was silence on the other end and Lance pulled the phone away from his ear to make sure Shiro was still there. “Shiro?”

Shiro sucks in a breath, “What?! No. I bet he isn’t planning anything big. I mean that’s ridiculous.” 

Lance frowns at Shiro’s over the top laugh that dies off as he himself realizes that it’s over the top. “He is, isn’t he. Shiro what is it?” he’s pleading now, but Shiro doesn’t give in.

“Lance it’s Christmas you never ask about stuff like this during Christmas. That’s not how it works.”

“Ugh, Shiro, what am I supposed to do?”

“ I literally am the worst person when it comes to shopping for Keith, Lance. I suck majorly at it.”

“You’re his  _ brother _ !” Lance clamps a hand over his mouth straining to hear if Keith noticed his sudden outburst. Shiro groans.

“Yeah, everything I got him has been prank gifts. It’s what we do, we don’t give each other serious gifts. Hell, when Keith graduated I gave him an empty fish tank and fifty pounds of those little blue rocks that go in the bottom; just because I knew he would never use it. I have no idea what he would actually want.” Shiro goes quiet again and Lance rubs his forehead. “Hey, Lance?”

“ Yeah?” he huffs irritably.

“Have you thought of sex toys?”

Lance hangs up on Shiro after that, mimes smashing his phone on the ground and then peers out from the pantry making sure that cost is clear before slipping out. He hears the dull thump of the ax outside, Keith had been going a little psycho with the amount of wood he’d been chopping lately, but Lance didn’t complain. Especially on days like this, where the sun was shining enough that Keith would discard his coat and Lance could watch his arms flex with every swing of the ax. He watches Keith work and debates. Maybe he could pay for Keith’s school? He has money that’s the least of his concerns. He could do it, but Keith would hate that. He already hates it when Lance buys him things? Maybe a trip to Paris? But he thinks that’s something Keith should have a say in. He turns away from the window and slouches onto the couch. It’s four days until Christmas and he has no idea what to do. Maybe he would use Shiro’s stupid idea of saying the trip was his Christmas present, but that felt cheap and Keith deserved more. He deserved to feel and know how much Lance cares for him,  _ loves  _ him. He runs his hands up his thighs tapping his fingers in a rhythm and remembers the stationary kit they had found whilst going through the small attic. 

Christmas morning was white and childlike excitement-filled Lance as he sat up in bed. Keith was still asleep and it gave Lance the chance to clamber out of bed and pick the letter up from the bedside table. He placed it on a bough of the tree and hurried back up to the warmth of their bed and Keith, who curled himself against Lance as he under the covers. Lance kisses the back of his neck and allows himself to doze. The previous night they had called Hunk and begged for help with the turkey. After an hour of Hunk berating them as they “mangled the poor thing to a second grave”, he sent them an instructional video that helped them get the bird properly prepared. Lance could smell it and as Keith began to stir Lance kissed him awake hopping out of bed to find their robes and house shoes, watching Keith stretch and yawn and inhale the smell of cooking turkey deeply.

“So,” Lance asked as they sat listening to Bing Crosby sing ``Let it Snow'' curled together on the couch. “What are we going to do today?”

Keith hums and turns to him, “I thought we could do presents this evening and just enjoy the day in a lazy way until then.”

They play board games, have a tiny snowball fight, make a slanting gingerbread house that’s held up with cocking instead of frosting. It had been Keith’s idea when the thing kept falling over. Lance called his family and set the phone on speaker as he moved about the kitchen preparing their dinner. Keith leaning in close to listen to the children describe what gifts they had received. He wished his fans a merry Christmas and then turned his phone off. They danced around the kitchen literally and figuratively, both laughing along the way, meeting in the middle to press kisses to smiling lips. When everything was cooked and they turned ignorant eyes to the mess in the kitchen they sat together at the table to eat. Keith had sober up considerably from their earlier joy, and Lance tried to look past it for now. If it persisted he would ask. Then before either of them knew it, the sun had gone down and snow had begun to fall again. Lance’s letter sat in the green and gold waiting to be given to Keith.

They move to the couch and Keith leaves him stepping towards the fireplace to add more logs. Lance watches him with a dopey smile, his stomach full, sitting in warmth surrounded by the smell of pine. It’s perfect. Then Keith turns around and gets down on one knee, extending his hand to Lance as he holds out a blue satin ring box. His other hand comes up to open the box letting the silver ring glint in the firelight.

Lance feels tears fill his eyes and he almost stands, but something in Keith’s eyes pleads with him to stay put, so he does. He leans forward though watching as Keith swallows, tracking the long slow movement of his Adam's apple.

“Lance McClain,” he starts but looks down taking a deep breath. When he looks up his eyes are wet. “Lance McClain you have made me the happiest man in the world. You have brought me comfort in times when I desperately needed it. You’ve seen me at my worst,” his voice cracks, “You’ve seen me at my best, and you loved me the same. The joy I have felt in being yours is indescribable. I know it isn’t much, I know that I am not much. I know we will face struggles as we go on, but I want to face life with you. So will you do me the honor of being my husband?”

Tears are streaming down Lance’s face as he looks at Keith. He’s surrounded by the glow of the fire at his back. His face is open, his eyes are full and he wants Lance for the rest of his life. He’s throwing his arms around him, pressing wet kisses against his cheeks and the corner of his mouth, finally on his mouth as Keith turns his head just so. He pulls away gasping and smiles through his tears.

“Yes, Keith. Yes, a thousand times yes.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_ Starlight, _

_ You and your love for cliches has driven me to write this letter. That and the fact that you are a nightmare to shop for. I have so much I want to tell you, so much I need to tell you, so much I hope you already feel. I love you, plain and simple. I love you Keith Kogane and never did I expect to find someone like you in my life. Someone who I love so fully with every part of my soul. This is cheesy, I know, but I could wax poetry about you. I can see you rolling your eyes right now. Stop, let me be romantic. _

_ Keith, I don’t know what will happen in the future. I don’t know if you will grow tired of my career, or the people I interact with. But I want you to know that whatever happens that we’ll be together. You truly are my strength, Keith. You’ve taught me to love again. To love the world again. Sweets and rain and silly picture books. The way the sun sets and rises again, I lost the love for these things I once had and you rekindle that fire in me.  _

_ God Keith, I can hardly put into words what I’m feeling. What I feel for you, for our memories good and bad. I fear that if I try to write down what my heart is screaming it would lose that magic. This sounds ridiculous I know, but my heart is yours, Keith. _

_ Love, _

_ Lance _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done, and I leave this one with sadness in my heart because of what an amazing experience it has been. What a fun story to write, I looked forward to every new chapter, and yes the chapters were fun to write, but my dear readers you made this project so worthwhile. Your comments have made my laugh and smile so much during the last few months. The joy I felt with every notification was overwhelming. I could not have asked for better readers. I want you all to know that I will remember you and your kind words.
> 
> Thank you again with all of my heart!❤
> 
> P.S. No I don't care if it's August. I'm ready for Christmas dammit!
> 
> My Instagram is www.instagram.com/dreamers.drabbles/
> 
> My Tumblr is https://www.tumblr.com/blog/daydreamsandtpewriters
> 
> There is a lot of witch related stuff on my Tumblr, but if you want to interact more personally with me, or have any questions about the fic, I would love to hear from you! My Instagram has drabbles and covers on it.


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